


You Have Committed Crimes Against Skyrim and Her People

by cottoncandy_dreams



Series: The Adventures of Tabethys: An Unlikely Hero [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Development, Friendship, Gay Romance, Labor Unions, Love Triangle, M/M, Minor Character Death, My First Fanfic, Pining, Proletariat rise up! You have nothing to lose but your chains!, Riften, Smut, Thieves Guild, Unrequited Love, amoral hero, this is very self indulgent writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 86,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22480870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottoncandy_dreams/pseuds/cottoncandy_dreams
Summary: Romlyn Dreth is tired of being pushed around by Indaryn at the Black-Briar meadery, and he's not the only one that's sick of the status quo in Riften. Banning together, the good people of Riften start a union and uncover some gruesome secrets. Plus, when a handsome adventurer comes to town, Romlyn starts to fall in love. Tabethys, the plucky adventurer, is not the kind of man who settles down, but there's something about Riften that he's starting to love. When he goes off and comes back with his friend Teldryn Sero, he finds himself in a sticky situation and with a difficult choice to make. Will the people of Riften be able to cleanse the city of corruption? Will Tabethys find a place to call home?
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Romlyn Dreth, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Teldryn Sero
Series: The Adventures of Tabethys: An Unlikely Hero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690627
Comments: 113
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written fanfiction before, but I love Skyrim and these characters, so I figured I'd give it a whirl. Hope you like it!

# 

#  Chapter 1

Romlyn Dreth wasn't an honorable man, but he was just doing what he had to do to survive. With the thieves guild in the city, he had to make sure he could take a hit, because sooner or later, they would steal from him. He was a Dreth, after all--why wouldn't they want to steal from him? So yes, maybe he did steal from his employer, but it was only because he had to. And to be fair, Maven Black-Briar made so much money she'd never notice the little bit skimmed from her profits. Besides, Maven was a horrible employer, so it was kind of like divine retribution, without the "divine" part. 

As he walked through Riften on his way to work, Romlyn savored the morning air. It was crisp, fresh. Well, as fresh as air can be in Riften. The stench from the Ratway drifted up, making Romlyn choke a little. He should be used to it by now, but that stench was still overpowering even after all his years in Riften. A few of the stallworkers had begun setting up shop in the market place. He heard the drawl of Brand-Shei boasting about his unique Morrowind wares. The soft sound of water lapping at the harbor gates was pleasing to Romlyn. All his life he'd lived by the water. He couldn't imagine living anywhere else. 

Tythis was chopping wood, but he gave Romlyn a little nod as he passed. Things were still a little awkward between them, but they had been going well recently. Romlyn wondered how long it would last. 

"I'm still selling cheap mead if you're interested," Romlyn said to Tythis, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else was listening. 

"Ht me up after my shift today and I might," Tythis responded. Romlyn gave him a thumbs up and continued on his way the Black-Briar meadery where he worked. 

The meadery was warm and humid despite the crisp winter air outside. Romlyn felt the sweat beading up on his forehead already. 

"Hey, Romlyn," Ungrien greeted him halfheartedly. The Bosmer was a cheerful lad before he'd taken on the job of working as the barkeep for the brewery. Nowadays though, he was grim. His smile had lost its glow. Indaryn Norvayn, the manager of the meadery, which he never let anyone forget, was hard on the new employee. Maybe he was racist against bosmer; Romlyn couldn't tell. 

"Ungrien, don't look so grim, man. Soon we'll strike against Indaryn," Romlyn encouraged him. 

The large mead barrels rested sleepily in the basement of the meadery. Indaryn watched as Romlyn walked down to the barrels. That Dunmer was always suspicious of everyone. He licked Maven Black-Briar's boots so much they may as well be shoved down his throat. Romlyn waved passive aggressively at the man. He couldn't wait to rise up against his tyranny. 

"You're late," Indaryn sniffed. "Pay the fine." 

"Fine? I'm not paying you for working here," Romlyn argued. 

"That's the rule. Pay the fine or lose your job," Indaryn insisted. 

"This is extortion!" Romlyn threw his hands up. Indaryn said nothing, but intensified his gaze and held out his hand, palm flat. Romlyn handed over five coins. Indaryn raised his eyebrow and looked at his hand. Romlyn huffed and slapped down five more coins. 

"Now get to work," Indaryn ordered. Romlyn turned to walk away, but looked over his shoulder and watched as Indaryn pocketed the ten septims. Suddenly, any qualms Romlyn had about skimming mead and selling it for cheap melted away. If they weren't going to play fair, then neither was he. 

The day went by slowly. Making mead, siphoning off bottles when Indaryn wasn't looking. He hid the bottles in a little nook he had carved in the wall. It was the perfect size to slip a bottle out of the meadery. There was a bush in front of the hole so no passerby could see the stolen mead. He would come by after dark and retrieve it. 

"Romlyn, go put this keg in the cellar," Indaryn barked, gesturing to a small keg of Black-Briar mead. Romlyn smiled his impish smile and wordlessly took the keg. This would make him a pretty penny, and maybe get back at Indaryn for his ridiculous late tax. 

Finally, it was time to close up shop. Romlyn said goodbye to Ungrien and left the meadery. He would come back in the night to retrieve the keg and deliver it to Wilhelm in Ivarstead. Romlyn stepped outside the meadery and took a deep breath. It was a nice day. The sunset shone brilliantly over the water, the blooming light showering the world in golden hues. He ran a hand through his long, fair hair and closed his eyes, drinking in the moment. 

The Bee and Barb was a cozy little tavern inn, and Romlyn was a regular there. He liked the way those Argonians made seared slaughterfish. He had tried to copy it in his own home, but it just wasn't the same. 

"Keerava, darling!" Romlyn exclaimed as he burst through the doors. The warmth of the hearth greeted him, and the idle chatter of the other patrons was a welcome noise. 

"Two seared slaughterfish coming right up," Keerava replied. Talen-Jei waved with one hand, the other holding his broom. Romlyn slid into an open seat at the bar. 

He didn't say anything, just listened as Keerava and Talen discussed their woes. She was complaining about being unable to afford Black-Briar mead. Unfortunately for her, Romlyn didn't think she would be a good customer for him. She was too close to Maven, literally--the Bee and Barb was right down the street from the meadery and Maven's own house. Romlyn shook his head. This city was being choked by greed. Greed from the Thieves Guild, the Black-Briars. It was affecting everyone. Romlyn wanted to do something about it, but he didn't know what to do. 

Riften was a stinking mess. Everyone knew it. Any good people who lived here only stayed because they were too poor to go anywhere else. They all wanted to leave. The only people who liked Riften were the rich who were getting richer by taking advantage of everyone else. Like Maven Black-Briar. Romlyn gritted his teeth. She had a monopoly on everything in this town, and the Jarl did nothing to stop it. Hell, the Jarl was probably in on it. 

A Dunmer woman came into the inn and requested a drink, standing by Romlyn as she waited. It was his friend and coworker Niluva Hlaalu. She was a fine young woman, but her skooma addiction had changed her. She was always absent-minded, like there was a fog in front of her eyes or she didn't quite know where she was. 

"Hey, Niluva. How are things?" Romlyn asked her. 

"Oh, hey Romlyn. You know what Indaryn told me? He said that if I'm late one more time, he's gonna kick me out the door!" Niluva griped. "I've been a loyal worker for years, and this is how he repays me?" 

"That s'wit. One day he'll regret pushing us all around." Romlyn clenched his fist. 

Niluva raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?" 

"All I'm saying is Indaryn's going to push someone too hard one day, and they're gonna push back. Hard." His mind started turning, wondering if it was a good idea to bring up his plan to Niluva yet. 

The door to the tavern opened, breaking Romlyn's concentration. He looked over his shoulder to see who it was. He didn't recognize them. It was a Dunmer man, short, with long black hair tied in a ponytail. He had a handsome face with strong features. The stranger scanned the room. 

"If you've got the coin, you're welcome. Otherwise, hit the road!" Keerava shouted over the hustle and bustle in the tavern. The stranger looked up at her and Romlyn noticed his eyes. They were a deep purple. They sparkled like flawless amethysts, and Romlyn had make himself remember to breathe. 

"I'd like a room for the night," the traveller said. He had a strong Nord accent, unusual for a Dunmer. "And a sweetroll." He plopped down on the stool next to Romlyn. 

"Your room will be the one in the corner," Keerava said, pointing to a closed door in the back of the tavern. She set a warm sweetroll down in front of the man, who looked at it for a long while before taking a bite. 

A grown man who orders a sweetroll in a crowded inn is a grown man with nothing to fear. Perhaps he would make a good customer. "Hi, I'm Romlyn Dreth. Would you be interested in buying some cheap mead?" 

"You're selling cheap mead?" The traveller looked up at Dreth, raised an eyebrow. 

"No, no friend. You've got it all wrong. I'm not selling _cheap_ mead. I'm selling _good_ mead for cheap…" Romlyn glanced at Keerava and lowered his voice. "Black-Briar Mead. I sell cases of it for half of what the inns and taverns pay through the Meadery. All I need is someone to deliver it for me. If anyone saw me leave Riften, they'd get suspicious." He didn't know exactly what to expect, but he knew the adventuring type. They were always looking to be on the move. Motive didn't matter as much as coin did. 

"What do you mean by _delivery_?" the stranger asked. 

"I just need someone to take this keg to Wilhelm at the Vilemyr Inn in Ivarstead. He'll pay you something for it, and you can keep it. And if you come back with the job done, I'll pay you, too." Two payments ought to entice the man. 

The adventurer shrugged. Hook, line, and sink her. "Sure, why not?" 

"Oh, one more thing: if you come across Indaryn, keep your mouth shut. He's a snitch and wouldn't hesitate to rat us out to Maven," Romlyn hissed. "This mead isn't exactly _easy_ to get at these prices, if you catch my drift."

"Of course," the traveller said. 

Handsome, morally questionable, _and_ helpful? Romlyn felt a flutter in his chest. "You never did tell me your name," Romlyn said, speaking in a normal volume. 

A smile crept across the Dunmer's face. "I'm Tabethys." 

"No family name? I'm a Dreth and my ancestor Valen was something of a badass. It's said he took down six Imperial soldiers all by himself…" 

The two spent the next several hours talking about everything under the sun. Romlyn learned that Tabethys was a restless wanderer, and that he had a particular fondness for the sea. That was something Romlyn could relate to; his parents had grown up by the coast in Morrowind, and when they came to Skyrim, they settled in Riften because it was a coastal town. 

The conversation meandered through family histories, with Romlyn being a little more forthright than Tabethys. Romlyn got the feeling that Tabethys was one of those types who never got very close to anyone, always kept on the move to avoid attachments. He'd met quite a few of those types being in Riften all his life, but there was something about _this_ one that made him want to know more. 

"Well, it's getting late," Tabethys said after a while. The sun had long since set, and most of the other customers in the inn had left. The Argonians who ran the place had already turned the chairs upside down on the tables and swept and mopped the floor. 

Romlyn blushed. "Yeah, it is." Why was he blushing? 

"It was really nice meeting you." Tabethys smiled. Somehow, he smiled not just with his mouth, but with his whole face. Even his unique amethyst eyes seemed to beam from the warm energy of the smile. 

Romlyn gave a weak half smile, trying to conceal the butterflies that he was sure were readily apparent to his new friend. Were they friends? "It was good to meet you, too. I'm always happy to talk another Dunmer in this foreign land." 

Tabethys stood up from the stool, arching his back. Romlyn wondered if they should have moved somewhere more comfortable sooner; his back hissed at him when he stood, too. They parted ways, but Romlyn turned to watch Tabethys walk by. He didn't know if he'd ever see the handsome, charming mer again, but he really hoped so. 

_____________________

The next morning was Romlyn's day off. It was perfect because he needed to keep talking to the townspeople, try to get them on board with his plan. 

"Good morning, Mjoll." Romlyn skipped over to the large Nord woman. She looked down at the short Dunmer, and a hearty smile spread across her face. 

"Ah, Romlyn! My favorite little elf," she exclaimed, gripping the mer in a bearhug. "What news have you for me today?" Her eyes sparkled in the morning sun. Aerin stood behind her, glaring at Romlyn, his arms crossed. 

"We still have to get people on board with the plan. So far, it's still just me and you." Romlyn frowned. "But I'm confident the people of Riften will step up. So many of us are just not happy with the way things are going in this city. I suspect there are more of us who are unhappy than there are those who profit off this current situation." 

Mjoll crossed her arms and knit her brow in thought. "I agree with you. We need some way to get our message heard. Talking to people can only go so far." 

"Maybe it's just a matter of talking to the right people." Romlyn looked at the market place. "I think Bolli is a good person to talk to. He is always talking about how unhappy he is with Riften and how much he wants to help." With that, Romlyn crossed the bridge into the marketplace and approached Bolli. The Nord was browsing Marise's food cart, one hand on his hip, the other perched under his chin. 

"Bolli, just the man I wanted to see!" Romlyn announced. The dark haired Nord startled and turned to face Romlyn. 

"Hello, Romlyn. I'm sorry, but I don't want to purchase any mead. It's just too early in the morning for that," Bolli answered before Romlyn could ask. 

"Nah, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." He threw an arm over the man's shoulders. Marise raised her eyebrow at the two of them. "Hey Marise," Romlyn said with a wave. She didn't say anything, but she gave Romlyn a nod. 

"Alright, enough. What's this about?" Bolli shrugged Romlyn's arm off. 

"You have been talking for a while now about things in this city need to change. Change for the better. Well, I have a proposition for you, and I think you're gonna like it." Romlyn took a deep breath. He wished he had practiced his pitch before leaping headfirst into this conversation. "I want to unionize the townfolk against the Theives Guild, the Jarl, and the Black-Briars." 

Bolli took a step back, hesitation rolling over his face. 

"Now wait, before you run off like a nervous little duck, just hear me out. It's not as scary as it sounds." 

"Alright?" Bolli looked around skittishly, like a deer when a bird lifts off out of a tree too loudly. 

"It wouldn't be just me and you. I already have Mjoll and Aerin in on the plan. They're talking to people, too. It would be all of us. I think you may know some others who would be interested in this idea. But basically, the idea is that, without us, their operations fail. We are the workers, the ones who make the wheels of the city turn. If they don't have us, they have nothing. They've forgotten that, Bolli, and we're gonna make them remember." It was like a fire had been lit in Romlyn's chest, and he believed so strongly in what he was saying that it captivated Bolli. Not just Bolli -- Marise, too. She'd been listening in, and the more Romlyn talked, the closer she'd stepped towards them. 

Marise cleared her throat, and Bolli jumped. He looked behind him and exhaled sheepishly when he saw that it was Marise. "That's not a bad idea, Romlyn," Marise agreed. "But… how are we going to 'show them' like you say?" 

"I'm glad you asked." Romlyn cleared his throat. "We're going to take to the streets. We're going to obstruct the daily goings-ons and make them _see_ that we outnumber them. We'll make them afraid. If we can, Mjoll would like to do it nonviolently. But I say, how many of us have they let die? Or in Maven's case, ordered the death of directly? So if it gets a little bloody, as long as they're the ones suffering, I can only see that benefitting us." 

"Bloody?" Bolli asked, his voice squeaking like a mouse. 

"Well, maybe not bloody. It's an expression, you know. But yes." Romlyn shifted his weight onto his other foot. "We will organize the town, walk out of work, refuse to cooperate until the Jarl does her job and finally acts on the Thieves Guild and the Black-Briars, particularly Maven. And if that doesn't work, well we'll just run them out of town ourselves."

"How is gumming up work going to fix anything?" Marise asked, skepticism lacing the edges of her words. "That'll just make life harder for everyone. No work means no money, for anyone." 

"Dues," Romlyn stated. "Starting now, everyone who joins pays a small amount of money, just what can be afforded by each person, that will be held in a central location. That money is only to be touched during the event of a person or family in need when we stage our walkout." 

"Bah! There it is!" Marise chuckled. "You want fed up, hardworking people to pay you to make their lives harder. It's con artists like you who give our people a bad name, Dreth." The Dunmer woman shook her head. 

"No, Marise, not pay _me_. Our organization!" Romlyn felt urgency creeping into his voice. He didn't want to lose Marise. "We are all going to be equal members, owning the same amount of the organization. There's not a leader. It's decentralized. We'll keep the money in the Temple. Maramal has already agreed to support us as long as it helps the city thrive." 

That got her attention back again. Bolli perked up at the mention of the Temple, too. "The Temple has agreed?" he asked. "Well, why didn't you say so! Count me in." 

Relief flooded in Romlyn's heart. He knew he could count on Bolli. "Bolli, your support means the world to me. Not just to me, but all the people of Riften." 

"How much?" Marise asked. 

"Huh?" 

"Gold? How much?" she repeated. 

"Oh, only as much as you can spare. We ask for five septims a week, but if you can't spare that much, that's okay. The whole point is to help everyone, not cripple you with dues." Romlyn tilted his head at her. "Can I take that as a 'count me in'?" he asked. 

Marise smooshed her lips together, pensive. "Yeah. Yeah I guess you can." 

"Great!" Romlyn smiled at her. "This is great, Marise. Thank you." 

She waved him off and nodded, handing over ten septims. "For the next two weeks." 

Bolli handed him 100 gold, and gave ten back to Marise. "Don't worry about it, my friend." He patted her hands as they enclosed around the ten septims. 

"Our first meeting is Middas at my house, just after sunset. There'll be food. Come ready to discuss how we can improve the town. Between now and then, try to get other people to come to the meeting. Direct them to me or Mjoll if they have questions you can't answer." Romlyn turned and walked off, feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders. 

He looked around the town and thought of a conversation he'd once had with a great wood sculptor. She had said every sculpture she made, she saw it fully formed within the wood, just waiting for her to remove the excess material and reveal its beautiful form. Her sculptures donned most of the Jarls' houses throughout Skyrim, so she must have known what she was talking about. When Romlyn looked out at Riften, he felt the same way. He saw the potential, what it _could_ be. He just needed to carve away the excess to let that ideal version shine. But he couldn't do it alone. 

"Dreth," he heard a gruff voice call out his name. Shit, it was Indaryn. "We're four cases short again at the meadery. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?" His raised a bushy eyebrow and squinted at Romlyn as if he was trying to see right through him. 

"What, are you accusing me of something?" Romlyn scoffed. He put his hand on his hip and held it there, forcing himself not to wriggle uncomfortably under the foreman's gaze. 

"No. Not yet." Indaryn pointed at Romlyn. "But you'd better watch yourself, fetcher." 

Romlyn huffed at Indaryn, but didn't respond. He turned and walked away, heading towards the Temple. He wanted to give Maramal the dues for the union. He took a step forward, but right as he was about to put his foot down, the ground shook, and he stumbled. What was that? 

A woman screamed, and he looked over towards the source. Nivenor, Bolli's wife, was clutching the silver and garnet necklace around her neck and pointing up at the sky, her face looking like the perfect example of pure terror. Slowly, Romlyn followed the angle of her arm up into the sky to see what she was pointing at. 

It was a blur, not really a shape of anything. But it was fast. And loud. Its roar tore through the sky, and ice and snow blasted down from the heavens. "Azura help us!" Romlyn shouted, falling to the ground, covering his head with his hands. Various guards descended upon the plaza, their bows drawn. The clattering of knocking arrows, crashing footsteps, and jangling armor mixed with the screams of the citizens, mostly the gold digger, Nivenor. 

The dragon shouted again, and more snow and ice tore through the town. It was a strange sight, snow on the ground the middle of the warm season. Romlyn didn't have time to ponder the strangeness of it though, because the dragon swooped again, causing the ground to quake. A guard fell right in front of Romlyn, blood seeping out from under his mask. He was dead. 

Romlyn was frozen in place, and not because of the dragon's icy breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the guard to get back up and start fighting the monster again. If this didn't end soon, there may not be a Riften to save anymore. They could be the next Helgen. 

Suddenly, a warrior's cry rang out through the village. Romlyn looked up. The stranger he had met at the Bee and Barb last night was running through the town, blasting fireballs into the sky at the dragon, fearless. He jumped up onto Brand-Shei's market stall, whooping and hollering. Was he--? No, certainly not… He seemed to be _trying_ to get the dragon's attention! 

"Hey you big, fat, stinky lizard! Come and get me!" Tabethys shouted, jumped and waving his arms. Oh by the gods, he really was. 

The dragon did as it was told and swooped back over Riften, landing on top of the well. The remaining townspeople screamed as it landed and dispersed as fast as they could. Romlyn, however, was transfixed. He watched, wide-eyed, as the gorgeous adventurer leapt from the market stall, landed on the dragon's neck, and began stabbing it repeatedly about the head and neck. Blood rippled from the dragons scales, streaming from the deep wounds the mer inflicted on it. It screamed, ice and snow shooting from its mouth, covering the front of the Bee and Barb. The adventurer cackled in what could only be described as pure glee and landed a killing blow right between the monster's eyes. It toppled. The mer, who Romlyn was not entirely sure was sane, hopped off the dragon's neck nonchalantly, and stared at it, his back to Romlyn, hands on his hips. 

What happened next was like nothing Romlyn had ever seen. The dragon corpse began to glow. Tendrils of white and orange, glowing light reached out, wrapping themselves around the stranger, and the stranger began to glow as well. The dragon's form became a silhouette of white light, and with a sound like wind blowing, the glowing subsided, and all that remained of the once fearsome beast was a skeleton. The stranger glowed for a moment longer, but then, slowly, the light emanating from his body subsided. Romlyn didn't move. 

The guards who had been fighting walked slowly towards the scene of the fight, visibly shaken. In their reverie, one of guards breathed, "Just like the legends said… Dragonborn." 

A rush of understanding came over Romlyn. Dragonborn. That mer was the Dragonborn! He pushed himself to his feet, legs still shaking, and approached. 

"You're… I can't believe it! You're the Dragonborn!" Romlyn felt inadequate to be standing beside such a hero. Even though he never really bought into all that Nord superstition, he couldn't debate something he'd seen with his own eyes. He fought the urge to bow. 

Tabethys looked to the ground and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, a pained expression on his face. "Eh?" he grunted. 

"Are you hurt, serjo?" Romlyn asked, sounding a lot more panicked than he meant to. Romlyn reached out and tenderly took the hero's hand, examining it for blood. 

"No, no! Don't worry about me, really. I'm just doing what I do best." Tabethys laughed and shuffled his feet, taking his hand back. 

A dozen guards and townspeople came milling up the dragon, murmuring in disbelief. Tabethys and Romlyn locked eyes for what felt like an intense, intimate moment, and then Tabethys turned and sprinted out of Riften. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabethys tries to find clues to his past, but ends up finding a new friend instead. Romlyn and Mjoll recruit more people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than I thought it was, and it's not super action packed. I'm the only set of eyes working on this, so hopefully there aren't too many glaring mistakes. I hope you enjoy it!

Tabethys couldn't take it. All the people staring at him. Yeah, killing the dragon really gave him a rush-- I mean, look at what he could _do_ . But in a way, it also depressed him. Taking that beautiful, magnificent, not to mention ancient, creature out of the sky? It may have attacked first, but still. Tabethys didn't like killing it. Absorbing its soul gave him a burst of energy, and he used it to get the hell out of Riften. So he ran. All those people, slack-jawed, watching their "hero" run away. _Sure, sure,_ he imagined them saying in his wake, _leave us to clean up the mess_. Soon, they would realize what he already knew to be true: he was no hero. 

Tabethys ran until he couldn't run anymore. And then he half walked, half jogged. Where he was going, he didn't know. By the positon of the sun, he was going north. There was no road beneath his feet to guide him, though. He just placed one foot in front of the other, replaying the events that had just transpired in his head. A wolf jumped out from the bushes, growling at him. 

"Oh, did I cross into your territory, little one?" Tabethys cooed. The wolf stopped snarling, lowered its hackles, and softened its gaze under the influence of Tabethys's magic. It sat, looking up at Tabethys, tongue lolling out of its mouth. It almost looked happy. Tabethys smiled at it. 

"Don't worry, I'll be gone soon. My apologies, mighty wolf." He turned on his heel and kept jogging, dodging tree roots and bushes as he went. 

After a moment, he stopped running. Nothing enticed him to stop, but that was exactly why he stopped. The Dunmer looked up at the sky, the green leaves of the summer trees gently moving with the breeze. Tabethys took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt the fresh air fill his lungs. It was moments like these that reminded Tabethys why he was still here. He exhaled and took out the tarnished pendant he always wore from under his tunic. The engraving was barely visible now, but it still clearly bore the insignia of a six legged beetle. It was all that had been left on him when he was found, orphaned and barely able to toddle, by the Nords who raised him. Tabethys had done some research, mainly just asking around and seeing if anyone knew what it meant. According to an Altmer farmer in Rorikstead, Redoran was the name of a Great House of Morrowind, and its symbol was the six legged beetle. She had told him that he should go to the Gray Quarter in Windhelm and ask the dark elves who lived there for more information.

So, Tabethys kept walking north towards Windhelm. Now that he had a destination in mind, he walked with purpose. Soon, the sun began to set, and even though it was technically summer, it began to freeze. He was getting into the arctic climate of northern Skyrim. He trudged along, cold, shivering. Despite living in Skyrim his whole life, he still didn't like the cold. 

Slowly, the city of Windhelm began to appear in the distance. It was magnificent. The stone walls stood fiercely against the screaming, frigid winds. They seemed calm, stoic even. The bridge across the river to the city was daunting. Tabethys didn't really want to go into the city, but he felt it calling to him. So he went forth and entered the massive, ancient city. 

Windhelm smelled of slush, ice, and food. 

"Oh great, another gray-skin come to burden the true sons and daughters of Skyrim," a Nord shouted. Tabethys felt a familiar rage welling up inside him. 

A Dunmer woman was standing near him and another Nord. The Nords turned back to face the woman, shouting various slurs at her. One of them was shorter, but still tall, and had brown hair. The other was taller, older, and bald. 

"Whadda ya say, gray-skin, you gonna tell us where your Imperial camp is?" one of the Nord men goaded the woman. 

"I am not a spy!" she insisted. She crossed her arms and leaned back, away from the Nords. 

"What's going on here?" Tabethys said, stepping between her and the Nords. 

"Get out of here!" the brown-haired one said, waving Tabethys away like he was a fly. 

"Yeah, this doesn't concern you." The bald one bared his teeth at Tabethys. 

"I can make it my business if you don't leave her alone," Tabethys threatened. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

"Fuck it, Angrenor, let's get out of here. Damn gray-skins aren't worth our time." The short one turned and walked towards the inn behind him, motioning for his friend to follow. 

"You're lucky my friend is more level-headed than I am, or I'd have you killed. I'm watching you, elf," the bald Nord spat. He walked backwards into the inn, pointing at Tabethys. 

Tabethys stayed in his ready stance until they were both inside the inn. They'd probably shit themselves if they realized he was the Dragonborn, their famed hero of Skyrim. He scowled and turned to face the woman he'd shielded from their harassment. 

"Are you okay?" he asked her. She shared his scowl, still looking at where the Nords had been standing. 

"I'm fine. Their behavior is nothing unusual." She sighed and offered a weak smile to the newcomer. "You ever been to Windhelm before? Watch out for those two. Most of the Nords in the city aren't that bad, but there are some who would prefer it if we weren't here." 

"Thanks for the advice. My name is Tabethys. What's yours?" 

"Suvaris Atheron," she said. "Pleased to meet you. I hope the rest of your stay in Windhelm is more pleasant. I'd stick to the Gray Quarter if I were you. That's where most of the Dunmer live." With that, she walked off. 

Maybe coming to Windhelm wasn't the right idea after all, if those two Nords were anything of a warning. 

"Suvaris, wait!" Tabethys called, running after her. "I don't think I should stay in this city for long. But I just wanted to thank you for being kind." 

"That's not necessary. I would hope anyone would treat me the same." Suvaris turned and smiled warmly at him. "I take it you're an adventurer. If you're looking for the next adventure, there's boat in the harbor today that's making a trip to Solstheim." 

"Solstheim?" 

"You haven't heard of it? It's a colony of Morrowind a little ways off the coast maintained by the Great House Redoran. Its southern half is almost completely ashen, from what I hear. They say it looks similar to Vvardenfell. I haven't ever been, but I would like to. It's a little closer to home, you know?" She looked off into the distance and pursed her lips. "Well, I really must get back to work." 

Redoran. Solstheim. Morrowind. Just the name of it brought up an ache in Tabethys's heart. He thought of the letter that had been fastened to his blanket when he was found by his Nordic parents: _Redoran_. All he knew of Morrowind was what little he had read in books. He longed to reconnect with it. The nagging, pulling feeling in his chest seemed like the land itself was calling him to it. 

Tabethys raised his chin and marched with purpose to the docks, abandoning the idea of going to the Gray Quarter. He approached a Nord man whose ship looked like it was going to disembark. "Are you going to Solstheim?" 

The Nord didn't look up from tending to his ship. "We are. The _Northern Maiden_ is almost ready to set sail." 

"I'd like to book passage." Tabethys hopped aboard the ship, making it clear that he intended to travel with them. 

"If you have the coin, sure. It's 250 gold." The Nord didn't seem at all bothered by the strange Dunmer standing so close. Tabethys handed over the 250 gold and made himself comfortable on the ship. 

__________________

The town of Riften fell silent as the stranger, now revealed to be the Dragonborn, sprinted away from the corpse of a dragon he had just killed. The skeleton was all that was left, and it was a massive, hulking thing. Everyone just kind of stood there, looking at it, dumbstruck. Romlyn looked over at Marise. Her face was pale, mouth open, red eyes wide. Bolli had the same expression. 

"Well, stop gawking at it, and get rid of it!" a pinched voice ordered. It was Maven Black-Briar. She stood on the balcony of her house, looking down on the townspeople in disgust, her dark black hair flowing gently with the breeze. "Really, it's not that impressive. The sooner you get rid of it, the sooner you can get back to work." 

The people slowly looked up at her. Was she seriously telling them that a dragon, whom most didn't even believe still existed, was _not that impressive?_ That they should just _forget_ that they all almost died, clean it up, and get back to work? 

"Are you insane?!" Romlyn shouted at her before he could stop himself. 

"I beg your pardon?" Maven snapped, not bothering to hide her disgust. 

"A _dragon_ just landed in our town, and the _Dragonborn_ killed it, saving us all. You don't think that's even a little impressive?" Romlyn pressed. 

Marise tugged on his arm. "Let it go," she hissed. 

"You'd best not speak to me that way if you know what's good for you. You _are_ my employee. I can have you removed from my town." Maven's gaze intensified as she threatened Romlyn. Suddenly he remembered the rumor that she had connections in the Dark Brotherhood, and a chill ran down his spine. 

Regardless of how much of an ass she was, the dragon did need to be removed; it couldn't just be left in the city center. Jarl Laila appeared and gazed upon the dragon, but said nothing. She just watched from the steps of her manor as the townspeople started working together to dismantle the thing and put it outside the city walls. 

"I hate Maven Black-Briar. Everything about her rubs me the wrong way," Romlyn whispered to Marise. 

"I agree with you. She thinks she's so great, but little does she know the entire town is mobilizing against her." Marise chuckled. The pair worked together in tandem, cutting the sinews that held the giant, hefty dragon bones together, and hauling them one by one to a pile outside the town. There, some dockworkers were digging a giant hole. A grave. 

"How do we know this thing isn't going to come back alive and try to freeze us again?" Bolli asked, eyes twitching.

"Well, this is Skyrim. If it wants to kill us, it's gonna have to do better than a little ice and snow!" one of the guards said with a hearty laugh. 

They worked together for the rest of the day. Taking apart a dragon was no easy feat. But there was song and drink, and altogether, the work wasn't that bad. Romlyn noticed through his slightly tipsy stupor that it was only the lower classes who were working on this. The members of the thieves guild, the Black-Briars, the Jarl and her court, and the guards were all nice and cozy, not lifting a finger. He wasn't surprised.

Finally, as the sun was setting, Marise and Bolli set the last bits of dragon in the grave. Mjoll, Madesi, and Romlyn started filling in the grave. 

"When you're done, drinks are on the house at the Bee and Barb!" Kareeva announced. "One per customer!" The weary townspeople gave a half-hearted cheer. Romlyn was excited. Free drinks were better than no drinks. And after this long day, he sure could use one. 

"You were strong today, little elf," the blacksmith Balimund said, slinging his arm around Romlyn's shoulder. 

Romlyn groaned. "You know, most of us don't like being called 'little elf.'" He raised an eyebrow at the blacksmith, but didn't shrug the hulking Nord's arm off. "But since it's you, I'll tolerate it." 

Balimund let out that signature Nord belly laugh. "I will try not to call you that anymore, my friend! See you at the Bee and Barb." 

The Bee and Barb was cozy, as usual. It was very busy. It was like everyone in Riften had come to the inn. The air was pleasant, smelling of mead, and the aura was light and happy. Kareeva and Talen-Jei ran back and forth, flitting about like excited chickens, checking on every patron, delivering food and mead. Romlyn stood in the door, looking for a place to sit. 

"Romlyn!" Marise waved to him. She smiled, her cheeks the tips of her ears flushed with dark purple. Bolli, Mjoll, Aerin, Ungrien, Tythis Ulen, Balimund, and Brand-Shei all sat around a little table with her. They looked up at Romlyn, each of them looking drunk and happy. Romlyn walked over and took a seat next to Brand-Shei, across from Marise and Bolli. "I was just telling our friends here about your little idea." She gestured to Ungrien, Tythis, and Brand-Shei, who looked eagerly at Romlyn. 

"Tell us more, brother," Brand-Shei said. "Mjoll already explained some of what's going down, but I wanted to hear it from you." 

So Romlyn explained how he had been snooping around in the meadery one day when he was bored at work. He'd discovered some cryptic letters that had coded language written on them mixed with regular words. Someone was coming down the hall, so Romlyn quickly left. When he came back the next day to get a better look, the letter was gone. 

Romlyn continued, "But I did see one symbol that I recognized." He took Mjoll's napkin and drew a triangle with a circle inside. "It looks similar to one that's in the graveyard." 

Brand-Shei's eyes shined with recognition. "I've seen that symbol!" He jabbed at the napkin with his finger. "I think it's--" he leaned in and whispered loudly, "the thieves guild." 

Romlyn nodded. "Yes, that's my thought, too. The letter was signed in Maven's own hand, so I know it was from her. I believe she was writing to the thieves guild. In the letter, from my brief glance at it, though most of it was in code and I didn't have near enough time to decrypt it, she was asking about a shipment of some sort." 

"I knew that old hag was in with the thieves guild!" Ungrien slurred. He stood up, tottering. His face was very flushed. 

Marise grabbed him and yanked him back into his chair. "Sit down, do you want to tip off _Maul?"_ she hissed, gesturing with her elbow to the black-haired Nord leaning against the back corner of the inn, massive arms crossed over his steel-armored chest. He was looking at Kareeva, a sneer across his face. 

"Sorry," Ungrien hiccupped. 

Balimund chuckled. "You really can't hold your mead!" 

"I think you've had enough mead, Ungrien," Mjoll said. She took his tanker and moved it to her side of the table. Romlyn noticed that Mjoll hadn't touched a drop of mead. 

"As I was saying," Romlyn continued, "I think there's more to Maven than just unfair wages. I propose we unionize the whole town, anyone who will join, and make a move against her. We all feel unsafe with her around, threatening people left and right." 

Brand-Shei nodded. Tythis leaned in. "Union?" Tythis asked. "What good could that do? I don't even work for her." 

"Maybe not, but you work at the fishery, which helps the city run. If you refused to sell her fish or anyone who worked with her, that would help put pressure on her. Her employees at the meadery can walk out, refuse to make more mead. Without us, she's done for anyways. Every little bit helps." 

"I can see how that could work," Brand-Shei agreed. "But if none of us work, how will we keep food on the table?" 

"We can supply each other with food and have a mutual aid fund supported by all members through dues," Romlyn answered. 

Balimund nodded. "Like a guild, but not for a specific trade," he mused. "I can see the benefit in this. I'm in." 

"I've already donated a large amount of dues to help," Bolli offered. "The dues are kept safe by Maramal at the Temple of Mara." 

"Count me in," Brand-Shei said. "It feels good to finally be a part of something and work to make Riften safe." Tythis and Ungrien nodded. 

"Great!" Mjoll said. 

"Welcome," Marise beamed. 

The friends sat around the table, reminiscing about the way Riften used to be before Maven started her business. The thieves guild was all but legend, the Bee and Barb had dozens of different types of meads, and children played freely throughout the town. The canal was open and clean. With a little bit of elbow grease, Romlyn hoped he would be able to see that Riften shine. 

__________

Solstheim was warmer than Tabethys expected it to be. The ash floating through the sky held in the sun's warmth, making it feel warmer even than Falkreath in summertime. He sighed, basking in the warm air. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders just by standing there. 

"I don't recognize you, so I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander," a prim voice asserted. "State your intentions." The Dunmer was blue-skinned, and his nose looked rather pinched. His accent was unmistakably a Dunmeri one. 

"I'm just trying to get to Morrowind. I'm an adventurer," Tabethys said, suddenly very aware of how Nordic his accent sounded. 

The Dunmer man scoffed. "No ships sail to Morrowind from Solstheim anymore. This is as close as you'll get to Morrowind, outlander. But remember, while you're here, this _is_ Morrowind territory, not Skyrim, so you'll follow _our_ laws while you're here." 

"I'm not here to break any laws. Why are you so suspicious of 'outlanders' anyways?" Tabethys asked, crossing his arms. 

"Well, I have to be. As Second Councilor, the security of Raven Rock is my primary concern." He crossed his arms. "My name is Adril Arano, by the way. If you need anything, I shall do my best to assist you." With that, he walked away, presumably satisfied with Tabethys's answers. 

The dock was not nearly as busy as the docks in Windhelm had been. There were a few people unloading supplies from the _Northern Maiden_ , but other than that, it was empty. Eerily empty. Tabethys followed the Second Councilor into the town, Raven Rock. There were more people there, all Dunmer, Tabethys noticed. Many were speaking a foreign language, which Tabethys assumed was Dunmeris. He stood there, gawking at the villagers, stunned. He knew Morrowind was the land of the Dunmer, but actually being there for himself was a different experience altogether. 

"Ju'rohn, adur ohn duhnadag?" a Dunmer woman asked. She was wearing a blue tunic, a turquoise scarf, and gray shoes with wrappings around her calves. She had a soft face, if a little weathered by age and stress. 

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Dunmeris," Tabethys said shyly. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at her. 

"Oh! Apologies, sera. I was just asking if you were a visitor. That answers that," she laughed and extended her hand to shake his. "I'm Dreyla Alor, a farmer on this wretched island." 

"Tabethys. I'm an adventurer, I guess you could say. I've never been here before." He smiled brightly at her. It was so good to make a new friend. Perhaps she would be willing to teach him Dunmeris. 

"Judging by your accent, I'd say you're from Skyrim," Dreyla observed. She looked up him up and down. 

"I am, yes. Born and raised. Well, I assume I was born there." Tabethys shifted his weight. He was beginning to feel a bit warm in his armor and clothes. They were great for northern Skyrim, but too hot for Raven Rock. 

"You assume? You mean you don't know?" She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. 

"I was an orphan. A couple of Nord farmers found me and raised me. I grew up just outside of Rorikstead, if you know where that is." He didn't expect her to. 

"Can't say that I do. I've never been to Skyrim. I hear they don't like our kind there." 

Tabethys snorted. "That's an understatement." He didn't offer any elaboration. 

"Well, if you're hungry, traveler, my father and I are farmers. We have plenty of fine ash grown foods to sell, if you want that authentic Morrowind taste. We also sell armor if you'd like something new. No offense, but yours is looking a bit… weathered. If you're looking for drink or lodging, Geldis Sadri runs the Retching Netch." 

Tabethys smiled at her. The first thing he wanted to do was buy some clothes and armor to change into. His armor was not in the best condition anymore. He noted a few holes and tears in the fabric. But he liked the look of the Dunmer style. The bright colors of the clothes appealed to him. 

"I would actually like to buy some clothes and armor. What do you have?" 

She showed him a red Dunmer outfit. It had a hood, which he liked. In Skyrim, it was necessary to have a head covering, not just for privacy, but for ear protection, too. Those bitter winds were no joke. He also purchased a very sturdy set of chitin armor fashioned in the traditional Dunmer style. When he had purchased all he needed, he asked her for directions to the Retching Netch. 

The Retching Netch, like all the other buildings in Raven Rock, was a squat little building that looked scaled on top. It only had a door for a front feature; the rest was underground. Tabethys walked into the inn and saw a fireplace opposite the door on the other side of the stairs, and on the sides, there were chairs and tables. A man in Morrowind style chitin armor was sitting on a chair, watching him. Or at least, it looked like he was. Tabethys couldn't tell for sure since the guy had goggles on and a scarf and helmet that covered his entire face. Tabethys wondered if he was on the run from someone. 

He walked down the stairs to the bar, and a Dunmer greeted him exuberantly. "Welcome to the Retching Netch, outlander! I'm Geldis. What can I get you?" 

"What's the special?" Tabethys asked. 

Geldis's face lit up. "Actually, I'm making own recipe of sujamma. Care to try?" 

"Sure." Tabethys gave him five coins and took one of the yellow bottles Geldis has gestured to. He opened it and took a swig. It was sharp, but surprisingly good. "Thank you." 

"So," Geldis said after a while, "where are you from? Skyrim?" 

Tabethys nodded. "I grew up outside Rorikstead, which is a little farming village not far from Whiterun." 

"That's on the… western side of Skyrim, right? My Skyrim geography is a bit rusty." Geldis chuckled. 

"Yep. It's very small, so I'm surprised you've heard of it." 

"We had a bard from Skyrim come in here not too long ago. He sang about it once." Geldis picked up a cup and started wiping it down. "So, what brings you to Solstheim? Not many come this way." 

Tabethys shrugged. "It's a long story." 

"I'm a barkeep. Part of the job is listening to travelers' long stories," Geldis pointed out. 

"I guess. Well, okay. I'm an orphan dark elf--er Dunmer, grew up on a farm outside Rorikstead. A couple of Nords found me, thought I'd make a good farmhand. Maria and Killian Blackthorn. They were nice enough until I started showing an aptitude for fire magicka. They were Nords; magicka's not a well-respected part of their culture." Tabethys looked down at his hands. It felt good to share this story, but also terrifying. "I accidentally burned down the chicken coop when I was twelve. The Blackthorns were good people. I was never hungry, never cold. But I wasn't their son, and they made sure I knew that." 

Geldis set down the cup he'd been wiping and leaned in on one elbow. 

"All my life, I wondered where I came from, who I was. My only belonging was a necklace with a beetle carved on it. I asked around in Skyrim and was told that it was the symbol for Redoran, the Great House of Morrowind, and that they had control of Solstheim. So I guess I came here looking for answers." 

Geldin sucked in his breath. "Well, if you're a member of House Redoran, you've certainly come to the right place. The Redoran Guard patrols this settlement. Captain Veleth can probably tell you all about House Redoran." 

"Thanks." Tabethys yawned. The journey from Riften to Solstheim was long, and talking about his past had taken a lot more out of him than he realized. "I think I'll take a room now, get some sleep." Tabethys handed Geldin ten gold for the room, and Geldin led him to a little room at the end of the hall. 

The room had a bed, a shelf, and a chest. It wasn't much, but it was good for one night. Better than the room he'd had growing up. He fell face first onto the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes, and immediately fell asleep. 

_______________

Tabethys awoke slowly, mind still clouded by dreams. He couldn't recall what they were, but they still lingered heavily in his waking mind. The bed smelled unfamiliar. The floor and walls were unlike any he'd ever seen before. Tabethys shot up out of bed. Where was he?? 

Slowly, realization set in. Solstheim. He was in Solstheim. He exhaled deeply and relaxed a bit. Outside his door he could hear the idle chatter of other inn patrons. It was just another normal day. 

Tabethys stretched and got out of bed. He walked out of his room and set the key on the bar counter and leaned against the bar. 

"Can I help you?" Geldin asked. 

"Where can I find Captain Veleth? I wanted to talk to him about the House Redoran like you suggested last night." 

"Well, you'll probably find him patrolling outside the Bulwark at this time of the morning. But I'd be careful out there. Ash Spawn live outside the wall," Geldin warned. 

"Thanks for the tip," Tabethys said. He started up the stairs and left the inn. Ash Spawn? He'd never heard of that before. It was probably some superstition. Although, he had fought undead and dragons, so perhaps not. 

The warm air of Solstheim was a shock. He still wasn't used to it. The ocean gently lapped against the shore, the people on the docks shouted to one another, and people in the marketplace chatted quietly. In the distance, looming and ancient, was the Red Mountain, still belching out the ash that made Morrowind uninhabitable and threatened Solstheim, too. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Tabethys had always imagined Morrowind being a beautiful land with large, prosperous cities, happy people, and robust culture. He knew it was an apocalyptic wasteland, but he preferred not to think of it that way. 

The quiet man from the Retching Netch was sitting outside just outside the inn, still wearing his bug-eyed helmet. "The best swordsman in all Morrowind is at your service... for the right price," he said as Tabethys walked past him. 

"Best in all Morrowind, eh?" Tabethys said. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" 

"Put me to the test, and you'll see. I've been a mercenary, soldier, even an assassin. If you're wanting to go outside the walls of Raven Rock, you'll need someone who can help you defend yourself against the Ash Spawn." The man stood up. "Only 500 coin, and you can have my loyalty." 

"What are Ash Spawn?" Tabethys asked. 

"Boy, you sure haven't been here long!" the man laughed. "Ash Spawn are fearsome, corrupted beasts that hide in the ash wastes, waiting for adventurers to come along so they can kill you. If you don't know what Ash Spawn are, you'll really need my help." 

"Okay sure, why not." Tabethys handed him the coin. "Do I get to know your name?" 

"Teldryn Sero, at your service, serjo." Teldryn bowed dramatically. "What's our next move?" 

"I need to talk to Captain Veleth, and I want to check out these Ash Spawn you were talking about. After that, I have some errands to run back in Skyrim. Given how much things over there like to try and kill me, it might be nice to have someone else along. If you really are as good as you say you are, that is." 

The pair bounded off into the Solstheim wilderness, ash blowing in their footsteps. Sure enough, as soon as they set foot outside, they saw a crowd of Ash Spawn attacking a couple of guards. 

"Perfect, I've been waiting for a fight," Tabethys jeered. He whipped out his ebony sword with his right hand and gathered some fire in his left, running with the fury of a madman, screaming a Nord battle cry. 

Tabethys ran at the Ash Spawn, slashing and hacking at it with his sword, pelting it with a constant rain of fire. The creature fell, but another took its place. It swiped at Tabethys's side with its arm, delivering a crushing blow. Tabethys felt something crack. Rage boiled up inside of him. He roared and stabbed at the thing with his sword, drawing blood that looked like lava from its tree root-like body. He cackled maniacally, continuing to hack and slash, taking out all his rage on the monster. It collapsed onto the ash and dissolved. Tabethys looked over his shoulder and saw four more of the ash beasts rise up. He grinned and beckoned the creatures to come at him. 

Teldryn jumped into action. He conjured a flame atronach and together, they pelted the beasts with fire bombs. Teldryn ran at the monsters, dual swords swiping furiously. Tabethys joined in, using his fire blasts and sword. Teldryn took out one Ash Spawn; Tabethys took out another. One of the two remaining charged at Teldryn, pummeling his back. The Redoran guard who was left standing grabbed the Ash Spawn off Teldryn's back, hurled it to the ground, and stabbed it in the face with his greatsword. Teldryn's flame atronach burned the last remaining one with a perfectly aimed fireball. 

Tabethys fell to the ground and drank a few healing potions, grimacing as the pain from his side radiated out. He stayed down for a moment, waiting for the healing potions to work. He stood up shakily, favoring his side that wasn't hurt. 

"See?" Teldryn said, breathing hard. "You would have died without me here." Tabethys could hear the smile in his voice. 

"Not true. I had it handled!" He laughed and walked up to the Redoran guard. "Sorry about your man," he said, gesturing to the dead guardsman. 

"Damn Ash Spawn. It's not safe to be outside the city walls anymore. I wish I could figure out where they're coming from and send them back." The guard frowned. "I'm Captain Veleth, by the way. Leader of the Redoran guard of Raven Rock." He held out his hand to Tabethys.

"I'm Tabethys." They shook hands. "I had some questions about House Redoran, and I was told you would be a good person to talk to." 

"Of course! What can I answer?" the Captain asked. 

"Well, I was abandoned in Skyrim, and all that was left with me was a necklace with the Redoran symbol on it. Do you know if any Redoran children went missing about 20-25 years ago?" Tabethys silently prayed to the Nine that Captain Veleth would be able to point him in the direction of his true parents. 

"Oh dear." Captain Veleth sucked in a breath over his teeth. He paused for a moment, thinking. "I'm sorry lad, but no children have gone missing from Solstheim in over a hundred years since I took over for the last captain. If you are a Redoran child, I'd say your folks must have left from the mainland, not Solstheim." 

Tabethys sighed. "Figures. Well, thank you for your time." 

Tabethys walked back into town, Teldryn followed right behind him. Tabethys booked passage for two back to Windhelm. He didn't particularly want to go back to Skyrim, but he had things to do. Besides, Solstheim wasn't going anywhere. Teldryn and Tabethys sat next to each other on the boat, watching as the ship's crew prepared for the voyage. 

"Have you ever been to Skyrim?" Tabethys asked Teldryn as the boat left the dock, drifting slowly out to sea. 

"Oh yes," Teldryn drawled. "I used to live in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm. That was… unpleasant. So I moved to Solstheim instead. Raven Rock's not much of a city, but it's better than Windhelm." 

Tabethys nodded. "Yeah. Windhelm makes me nervous." 

"Where is home for you now?"

"Nowhere, really. I grew up in Skyrim outside Rorikstead. I never met my Dunmer family; I was raised by Nord farmers." Tabethys sighed. The ocean waters sloshed against the ship's sides as they were steered towards Skyrim. It was hard to have to keep retelling this story. 

"Must be difficult to not know anything about your past," Teldryn remarked earnestly. "I couldn't imagine." 

"It was." Tabethys nodded. "Growing up, all I wanted was to go to Morrowind and find out who I really was, where I came from. The only thing I remembered when the Blackthorns found me was my own name, Tabethys. There was an elf, an altmer woman, who lived in Rorikstead who I met once--her name was Reldith--and she explained to me about Morrowind's Great Houses. She thought my Dunmer parents were political members of the Great House, and that's why the necklace was left with me. I never did figure it out." Tabethys took a breath. "That's why, when I heard the House Redoran had a presence on Solstheim, I had to come and investigate. I was hoping to be recognized or to hear someone talk about a long lost relative. But it was a dead end, just like everything else in my life." 

Icebergs began to appear over the horizon, and chunks of ice were floating alongside the boat. They were getting close to Windhelm. The air was changing, too. No longer permeated with ash, it was easier to see farther out, and Tabethys could see the outline of Windhelm in the distance. The ancient Palace of Kings stood tall, the darkness of it contrasting with the bright white snow and ice all around it. 

Teldryn patted his shoulder. "Maybe someday you will find the answers you seek." 

The ship pulled into the docks, finally, and the two Dunmer wordlessly left the docks, headed up the stairs for the entrance to Windhelm by the Grey Quarter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: Tabethys's clue from his past was originally a note with "Redoran" written on it. I decided it made more sense for it to be a necklace, as those are not as easily lost nor are they as perishable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabethys delivers something to Ivarstead for Romlyn. Romlyn daydreams too much. Teldryn realizes he is attracted to his new patron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a huge thank you to Obsi for beta reading this for me! Your input was super helpful. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter!

Teldryn and Tabethys stepped outside Windhelm, finally. Teldryn hated Windhelm. He'd lived there before, and the bitterness of the Dunmer residents was understandable but very, very draining. It was the darkest point in his life, and being there reminded him of things he'd rather forget. He was grateful his patron's adventure didn't require them to stay in Windhelm for an extended period of time. 

"The journey to Ivarstead is long," Tabethys said over his shoulder. "I hope you brought warm clothes." 

Teldryn grunted. "The cold doesn't bother me so much. I'm always a flick away from becoming ablaze in fire; I'll live." 

"So what are we doing in Ivarstead?" Teldryn asked. 

"Delivering something for someone." Tabethys offered no other explanation. 

They kept walking. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and Teldryn felt himself wanting to say something, but he didn't know what to say. Normally, he was comfortable with silence. Silence was something he was used to. In the Retching Netch, he could sit silently and observe the people for hours. Sometimes people approached him and struck up a conversation. Yes, he'd talked with all kinds of people. But rarely did he ever _want_ to talk to someone, and especially rarely did he not know what to say. 

Yet, that is exactly what was happening. 

It's not like Teldryn was _intimidated_ by the Dragonborn (although, he had to admit, there was something kind of unsettling about a man who could kill with just the power of his voice). No, that wasn't it. It was something else. Something much more alarming. Every time Teldryn got close to Tabethys, his heart skipped a beat. He was worried about saying the wrong thing. Doing the wrong thing. This was unusual for Teldryn. He was used to being calm, cool, and collected. Some even called him the master of sarcasm. But for some reason, being near Tabethys sucked all the words from him like a vortex. 

"So what made you decide to become a sellsword?" Tabethys asked after a while. His voice cut through the grating silence of the Skyrim countryside. 

Teldryn exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Oh, well. I've had my experience with weaponry, defense, offense. That sort of thing. I'd never wanted to be a sellsword when I grew up, but as a young man, it just happened. It made sense; I was good at it, and it paid the bills." 

Tabethys nodded. "Yes, I used to feel that way about being a farmer." 

"I thought you left your parents' farm?" 

Tabethys shrugged. "I did. But I settled down for a few years in the north. I lived alone. It was a quiet life. Sometimes it feels like decades ago…" Tabethys's voice trailed off. 

"I can't picture you as a farmer. Hermit, maybe, but definitely not a farmer." 

"Perhaps that is because I was never meant to be a farmer." 

Tabethys went quiet again, and Teldryn tried to think of something new to strike up a conversation, but there was nothing. As they walked, the cobblestones began to look more and more dilapidated. 

"I guess they don't manage this part of the road," Teldryn remarked. He kicked one of the stones off the path. 

"We're in the country. There's not a lot of money out here, so there's not a lot of public services like roads," Tabethys explained. 

Off in the trees, Teldryn heard a rustling sound. He stopped walking, looking around for the source of the noise. Tabethys, seemingly unconcerned, kept walking. Five bandits emerged from the trees, the leader wearing a scaled horn helmet, his ugly Nord face grinning like he'd just won the lottery. 

"Well, well," the bandit leader said. His voice was eery. He had the look of a killer, a person who has killed and enjoyed it. "Look what we have here, boys." 

The bandits cackled like coyotes, circling Teldryn for the kill. 

"We're gonna take everything you own, little elf," the bandit leader threatened. 

"I'd like to see you try," Teldryn quipped. He summoned his flame atronach, charged a fireball in the palm of his left hand, and grabbed his Elven sword. One of the bandits leapt at Teldryn, but the flame atronach started pummeling them with fireballs. The bandit fell to the ground, the scent of burned flesh permeating the area. 

Two bandits fought the flame atronach, while the leader and another bandit double-teamed on Teldryn. The leader screamed a Nord battlecry, swinging his greatsword with fury, or maybe that was glee. Teldryn dropped to the ground, rolled, and shot a burst of red-hot flame at the Nord, who shouted in surprise. The bandit's lackey chased after Teldryn, darting around the bandit chief. She slid on the ground towards Teldryn, slicing his leg with her dagger. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground, unable to stand. 

Teldryn gritted his teeth and swung his sword at the speedy little bandit. She dodged. The large bandit laughed and swung again with his huge sword. Teldryn looked up in fear. So this was how it ended? At the hands of some hulking Nord bandit? 

Just at the Nord started bringing his sword down, an ebony sword stabbed through his leather armor, up through his chest. Everything was moving in slow motion. The bandit leader gasped and dropped his sword. He looked down at the blade slicing through his chest. Horror overtook his face as he realized what had happened. Then he was sloughed off the blade, and his lifeless body slumped over. The bandit woman screamed and charged at the assailant, but she was stopped dead in her tracks as a flame shot from the palms of Teldryn's defender, burning her to a crisp. 

Teldryn looked up at Tabethys, trying and failing to conceal his pain. Tabethys had a hardened look on his face, but it immediately softened when he met Teldryn's gaze. 

"You're hurt," Tabethys stated. He crouched beside Teldryn and gave him a couple of strong healing potions. "Here, drink these." Teldryn took the small pink bottles, uncorking a potion with his teeth, and chugged it. It was bitter, but immediately, he felt the familiar warmth of the magic spread through his body, healing him. He closed his eyes and leaned into the sensation. 

"Does that feel okay?" Tabethys asked. 

Teldryn opened his eyes. He realized the warmth was not from the potion, but from Tabethys's own hands. Tabethys had wrapped his hands around Teldryn's leg, pressing firmly on the wound, soft yellow light emanating from them. He was using Restoration magic to heal him. 

"It feels good," Teldryn murmured. No one had ever done this for him before. Not a patron, at least. Plenty of priests had. His mother had. But not a patron. Not… a friend. "Thank you." Teldryn shifted, moving his leg away from Tabethys's hands. 

Tabethys nodded and hopped up to his feet. He stuck his hand out to Teldryn to help him up. Once Teldryn was standing, Tabethys started rifling through the bandits' pockets. 

"What are you doing?" Teldryn asked, mildly horrified. 

"This stuff could be useful later." He held up a ring of lockpicks, not looking up from the body he was searching. "Also, I like this guy's helmet." Tabethys turned to Teldryn, wearing, much to Teldryn's horror, the scaled horn helmet of the man who had just tried to kill him. 

"That's disgusting. You're so gonna catch lice from that." Teldryn crossed his arms. 

Tabethys shrugged. "It's a really cool helmet." 

"You're such a Nord sometimes," Teldryn scoffed. 

Tabethys stuck his tongue out but didn't take off the helmet, and they continued going south to Ivarstead. The rest of the journey was uneventful. When they reached Ivarstead, night was beginning to fall. Without the gaze of the sun, the already chilly landscape of Skyrim became freezing. The Vilemyr Inn was small, but thankfully, it had a roaring hearth to warm it, which Teldryn immediately sat near and began warming himself. Tabethys approached the innkeeper and gave him a small barrel of something. Then he rented rooms for both of them for the night. 

"Get your rest," he said, tossing Teldryn a room key. "Tomorrow we keep going to Riften."

_______________

" _Romlyn!!"_ Indaryn barked. "That's the third time today I've to snap you out of your daydreams. Get to _work_ , boy, or I'll find someone to replace you!" 

Romlyn glared at Indaryn, but continued stocking mead barrels. For the past four days since the dragon attack, Romlyn just couldn't stop thinking of Tabethys, the handsome stranger. _The_ _Dragonborn_ , he reminded himself. His shining purple eyes, with such depth and vibrance to them… his strong arms and confidence, when he was swinging a sword at least. When he had realized everyone was staring at him, amazed to see one man climb a dragon to kill it, he had grown timid and sheepish, and left. Romlyn sighed, dreaming upon dreams that he would get to see Tabethys again. 

Finally, the workday was done, and everyone shuffled out of the meadery. Romlyn lingered in the marketplace, wondering if any of his new union mates had recruited anyone else. Mjoll was standing on one of the bridges talking animatedly with Nura Snow-Shod, Grelka was grumping at Brand-Shei, and Nivenor perused Madesi's shop. 

Ungrien approached Romlyn. "So, when's the meeting?" he asked. 

"At sundown today, just like I told you four days ago." 

"Yeah, I was drunk when you told me that," Ungrien laughed sheepishly. 

"Yeah man, we know. We _all_ know," Romlyn said, gesturing to the entire town of Riften. 

Marise walked up to them. "Hey, boys. Still having the meeting tonight, right?" 

"Yep, that's what we were just talking about," Ungrien responded. 

"No, we were talking about how _drunk_ you got after we cleaned up the dragon corpse." Romlyn stuck his tongue out and smiled. 

"Ungrien? Drunk?" Marise gasped and put her hand on her chest. "Not _my_ Ungrien!" She grasped Ungrien's head and hugged him, smoothing down his hair. 

"Oh please, I'm older than you are!" Ungrien fake-grouched. 

Romlyn chuckled. "I'll see you tonight." He turned on his heel and swiftly descended the stairs to the lower level of the city. His house, like most of the other mer in Riften, was under the city, right next to the stinking, unmaintained canal. 

Romlyn sighed. "Someday, I'll move somewhere better than this." 

He shook his head and started tidying up as best he could. It was the first union meeting, so it had to be perfect. Every dish was placed on its spot on the mantle, and every article of clothing was placed in a drawer in his rickety wardrobe. He pulled the fur blanket up on his bed, making it look decent enough for guests to sit on tonight. Romlyn cursed; there weren't enough chairs for everyone. Some people would have to stand or sit on the ground. He propped the front door open and swept out the floor. It was not spotless, but it would have to do. 

After closing the door, Romlyn plopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Nothing to do now but wait for people to start showing up. He hoped they didn't expect food. This wasn't The Bee and Barb. 

Romlyn's thoughts began to wander, once again, to the handsome Dragonborn. It had been so long since Romlyn'd had a crush he almost thought he'd never have another one. His last one hadn't gone so well… he shook that thought out of head. He imagined the handsome Dragonborn riding in on a beautiful stallion, swooping Romlyn off his feet and sitting him on the horse behind him. "Hang on, darling," the Dragonborn would say, his voice deep and sexy, and then they would kiss and leave Riften for a beautiful mansion by the sea. 

_Knock knock knock!_

"Shit, is it nightfall already?" Romlyn muttered. He jumped out of bed, straightened his tunic, and answered the door. 

A figure, silhouetted by the setting sun reflecting off the canal waters, stood in the doorway. He was a tad shorter than Romlyn, and he had long hair in a ponytail on the top of his head. He looked up at Romlyn, violet eyes wiping every word from Romlyn's vocabulary. 

"Oh! I, uh, I wasn't, uh…" Romlyn stammered. 

"I delivered your keg to Wilhelm," the Dragonborn said. "He was very pleased. Told you to keep 'em coming." 

"Oh, right, uh, let me--I'll just get your payment then," Romlyn stammered. He had completely forgotten about the keg. The money, the money… ah, there it was! "Here you are. 50 gold. I hope that covers it." 

Tabethys nodded and ran off. It was then that Romlyn noticed another man standing just behind him. The man was tall for a Dunmer and wearing a full set of chitin armor in the traditional Dunmer style. Romlyn felt his heart drop. He'd never considered it, but _of course_ the mer had a lover. Of course he did; he's the goddamned _Dragonborn!_ Romlyn clenched his jaw to keep from saying something crass. And he'd made a complete fool of himself, too! Like the Dragonborn would ever want to be seen with someone who stuttered over every word. _Ugh, imbecile_ , Romlyn chided himself. He wanted to invite Tabethys to the meeting, but surely he would say no. 

Fuck it! "Hey, uh, Mr. Dragonborn, if you're interested, there's a meeting tonight at my house. You're the heroic type, so I figured you might be interested," Romlyn called after Tabethys. Tabethys stopped halfway up the stairs and looked down at Romlyn. 

"What kind of meeting?" he asked. 

"A union meeting. There's a real problem in this town, and we want to fix it. Your help could really go a long way," Romlyn explained. It was true; if they had the Dragonborn on their side, it would certainly convince others to join. But really, Romlyn just wanted an excuse to see the dashing hero again. 

"Okay, I'll come. On one condition," Tabethys said. 

"Okay great! Uh, name it?" 

"Don't call me 'Mr. Dragonborn.'" Tabethys smiled at Romlyn and then bounded up the stairs, the mysterious masked man just a few steps behind him. 

Romlyn blushed and stammered, like a blubbering fish. He wanted to say something, but couldn't get any words out. And before he knew it, the Dragonborn was already up the steps, off to do whatever else he was going to do before the meeting. 

__________

Teldryn sat across from his patron at a table in the back corner of The Bee and Barb, each sipping on some generic ale. Tabethys munched on a sweetroll. Teldryn's helmet and goggles were set aside on the table.

"Who was that?" Teldryn asked. It came out sharper than he intended. 

"Who?" 

"The fair haired Dunmer." Teldryn sipped his ale. "He clearly has it bad for you." 

"Oh, Romlyn??" Tabethys laughed. "No way! He's just someone I met when I was here last. He's a bootlegger. He's the one I delivered the keg for when we stopped in Ivarstead." 

Teldryn raised an eyebrow. "I'm telling you, he _likes_ you." 

"Nah. He's probably just awkward." 

"Sure, maybe. But I don't buy it," Teldryn argued. He looked up at Tabethys. "Why don't you think he likes you? It's pretty obvious to me." 

"Well…" Tabethys's voice drifted off. 

Teldryn studied Tabethys's face as if it were a book and he were a student. He looked at the creases in Tabethys's forehead, the thin line he'd pressed his lips into as he concentrated on his answer. There was a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. It was clear growing up doing farmwork had weathered the man. Teldryn wondered what his muscles looked like beneath all that armor. 

"I wouldn't wish me on anybody, I guess. I'm not husband material. And Romlyn is so… confident, sure of himself. There's no way a guy like him would be into someone like me," Tabethys finally answered. "I bet he has tons of lovers." 

The flames of the hearth cast long shadows in the dimly lit tavern. Many of the patrons had left the inn. It was quiet, except for the gentle crackling of the fire. Teldryn reached out and took Tabethys's hands. 

"You're better than you think you are, serjo," he whispered. Tabethys looked up at him, and Teldryn noticed how his eyes were a little blue in the center near the pupil. 

Tabethys coughed and yanked his hands back. "The sun's set. I think the union meeting is probably on." Tabethys stood up, waiting for Teldryn to follow. 

"You go ahead. Politics never really was my forte," Teldryn said. He leaned back in his chair, ran his hands through his hair, and watched Tabethys walk away.

_______________ 

Romlyn and Mjoll stood near the fireplace, talking quietly. Everyone else milled around in the cramped living quarters, talking amongst themselves about various things. Tabethys hung back in the shadows, not really sure what to do. He wished Teldryn had come along, so at least he wouldn't be alone. How strange it was to be surrounded by people and still feel utterly stranded. 

Tabethys watched Romlyn talk to the large Nord woman. He was an animated man, his hands moving wildly to illustrate a point of contention. His fair hair, almost white, cascaded down his shoulders, catching the light from the fireplace. The rich charcoal tone of his skin contrasted strikingly with the pale shade of his hair. Romlyn looked out over the room and met eyes with Tabethys. Romlyn's eyes, Tabethys noticed, were as red as blood or rubies, bright and full of life. They held each other's gaze for a moment before Romlyn blushed and looked away, prompting Tabethys to do the same. 

"Okay, everyone," Mjoll announced, her voice booming. "My friends, I thank you for coming, and I thank you, Romlyn, for dedicating your home to our purpose." She placed a hand on Romlyn's shoulder and smiled at him. 

Romlyn cleared his throat. "Today, we're mainly going to be gathering information: who is sympathetic, who is neutral, who is opposed, and what sorts of things we want to accomplish. Everyone's voice is important, so don't be afraid to speak up." 

He started off listing the names of people he'd talked with who weren't present and relaying what they had said. Some of the members, Tabethys couldn't remember all their names, volunteered other people they had talked to who were opposed, such as the Black-Briar boy, to which no one was surprised. 

"We need to recruit more people, so make sure you're living a good example and helping each other. I believe that the more positively we treat each other, the more people will want to join. Even if they don't join, kindness is never a bad thing," Mjoll said. She truly was one of the best people in Skyrim, Tabethys mused. Had she always been like that, or had she been through some profound struggle that softened her? He made a mental note to get to know her better. 

"When it comes to change, what are some changes everyone would like to see?" Romlyn asked. The way he took charge of the meeting with such firmness and confidence captivated Tabethys. He stood up there, talking to a group of people who were all looking to him for guidance, and treated it as if it were easy. Tabethys thought back to the last time he had been in Riften and people looked to him. He'd ran away. If that was any indication of their personalities, certainly Romlyn wouldn't be into him, a coward. 

Tabethys blinked, trying to keep his mind from wandering. 

"...banish the Thieves Guild," Marise was saying. There were noises of agreement throughout the building. 

"I'd like to see skooma gone, too. It's taken so many lives here already," Bolli said. "My dear friend Wujeeta has been thoroughly consumed by it. I remember how she used to be before skooma came to this town…" 

A hush fell over the crowd, as if they mere mention of skooma were enough to bring about a moment of silence. Tabethys was reminded his own brush with skooma. He had gone through a rough patch when he was a teenager, stolen some money from his Nord parents, and dabbled with skooma. He didn't see the appeal. 

"We need to bring down Maven's business. Her corruption is everything that is wrong with this city," Mjoll said firmly. "I propose that we all refuse to drink Black-Briar mead. Don't buy it from her to furnish your inns, don't drink it if it's offered, and don't give her your money." 

Enthusiastic agreement filled the room. Everyone was on board with that. 

"Maven would kill me if she saw me serving a competitor's mead in my inn. She comes in all the time. What am I supposed to?" Keerava protested.

"You have us backing you up, Keerava. Don't fear. I will stay with you in your inn if it helps," Mjoll offered. "I can take on anyone that tries to harm you!" 

"I'm sorry, but that's simply not an option. I don't have the luxury." 

The attendees quieted. "Of course, your safety is important, Keerava. But if we don't _all_ stand together… that's the whole point of this union," Romlyn pleaded. 

"Oh, fine," Keerava conceded . "But I want Mjoll to keep guard over me. I can't defend myself, especially not against the Dark Brotherhood." 

"It would be my honor," Mjoll said, bowing her head slightly. 

"Does anyone have any other changes they'd like to bring up?" Romlyn asked. 

"We need to take care of the ones who have fallen on hard times," Tythis said. "Everyone here has been through a rough patch at some point in their lives, and it's not fair for good people like Madesi or Edda to have to live as they do when dishonest people like Maven and the Thieves Guild live in splendor." 

"Yes, I agree," Niluva said. 

Bolli nodded, too. "Maramal and the Temple help as much as they can, but as long as people like Maven keep the rest of the people down, there's nothing that can really be done to solve the root problem." 

"Until then, we can ensure that everyone has enough food and a place to sleep through mutual aid." Aerin volunteered. 

"I encourage everyone to give at least 5 septims to the fund, but more if you can afford it," Romlyn agreed. "Say, 5% of your income? There's a designated place in the Temple that Maramal keeps hidden. The records are able to be viewed by anyone in the union. Just tell him you wish to see union dues records; he'll know what you're talking about. By keeping the records transparent, you'll be able to feel confident that your money is going where it was intended to." 

Keerava raised her hand to speak. "I cannot donate money. My inn is already barely getting by. But… I can donate food to those in need, and perhaps for future meetings." 

Mjoll smiled at Keerava. "Thank you Keerava. We all appreciate any little bit, you can contribute. Your cooking is the best in all of Riften! Speaking of food, I am feeling hungry, and I'm sure many of you are too. We shall begin closing the meeting," Mjoll said. "We need to choose a name for ourselves! Everyone who has an idea should submit it in writing to either myself, Aerin, or Romlyn, and next meeting we will take a vote." 

Romlyn stepped forward. "Our meeting is next week, same day, same time, same place. We'll start by giving updates, welcoming new members, and the main thing we'll do is hammer out some core values as well as vote on the name. I hope to see you all there, and thank you for coming. A special thank you to Tabethys, a guest in our town, and the Dragonborn who saved us from certain death last week when he took down that dragon!" He gestured to Tabethys who was still hiding in the back of the room, partially concealed by shadows. Everyone turned to face him and smiled, some were clapping, and most were thanking him for saving the city. Tabethys crossed his arms and smiled weakly at everyone, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. 

The meeting broke and people started chatting with each other. Some slowly streamed out of Romlyn's house, buzzing about the prospects of naming the union next week. Mjoll, Marise, Aerin, and Romlyn were at the front of the room by the fireplace, saying goodbye to people as they left and chatting quietly about something Tabethys couldn't hear. He wanted to stick around and ask Romlyn what he needed from Tabethys, but another part of him wanted to flee. 

Tabethys looked at the door, watching as the last of the attendees left. He took a step towards the door, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Thank you so much for coming, Tabethys," Mjoll said. He turned to face her and looked up at her. Her ice blue eyes creased as she smiled warmly at him. "It means a lot to have you here, especially to Romlyn." 

"Oh it was no trouble at all. You don't need to thank me," Tabethys deflected. 

Mjoll smiled and walked off, Aerin trailing just behind her. 

Romlyn approached, holding his hands behind his back. "Hello again." 

"Hi," Tabethys said. He didn't really know what to say. What if Teldryn was right and Romlyn _liked_ him? 

"I'm really glad you came. I was hoping to see you again." Romlyn smiled at Tabethys. He had a nice smile. It was lopsided and bright, contagious, too. Tabethys smiled back. 

"Oh? Why?" he laughed. 

"I wanted to get to know you more, but you left before I could get a chance. Want to get dinner? The Bee and Barb makes a wonderful seared slaughterfish." Romlyn opened the door, gesturing for Tabethys to exit first. 

"Oh sure. I haven't eaten in a while." Tabethys sighed with relief. Dinner with a friend. He wasn't _into_ him, he just wanted to get to know him! 

The pair walked up the stairs and entered The Bee and Barb. Many of the people who had been at the meeting were there, too. Keerava served them both seared slaughterfish and a house made ale, courtesy of Talen-Jei. Tabethys scanned the room, looking for Teldryn, but he didn't see him. He must have rented a room and retired for the night. 

"Where's your boyfriend?" Romlyn asked after they both were situated. 

"Boyfriend?" Tabethys coughed. He took a long drink of his ale. 

"Yeah. That creepy dude who always wears the mask. What's his name anyways?" 

Tabethys burst into laughter. Romlyn raised an eyebrow. "That's Teldryn, my bodyguard! I hired him when I was in Solstheim. He mentioned wanting to go to Skyrim if I was heading back this way so I brought him with me. He's been very helpful so far." 

"Oh," Romlyn said. He drank his ale to shield his face and distract Tabethys from the blush creeping onto his face.

"Boyfriend!" Tabethys chuckled. 

Keerava approached the table, carrying a tray with a second round of ale for the men. "You boys doin' alright?" she asked as she scooped up their empty bottles of ale.

"Just fine, thank you Keerava," Romlyn said, smiling at her. 

She nodded and walked back to the bar, her green, scaly tail swishing as she walked. 

"So tell me, what's it like being the Dragonborn?" Romlyn finally asked. 

"Oh please, let's not talk about that," Tabethys scoffed. 

"Why not? It's definitely interesting!" Romlyn protested, tongue in cheek. 

Tabethys groaned. "Because! Everyone thinks of me as some kind of hero. In reality, I'm just an orphan boy, a peasant. I'm no one's hero. I'm a regular guy, just like anyone else." 

Romlyn nodded quietly. "I get that. But still. For a Dunmer to be the 'savior of Skyrim'... well, that's really something." 

"I guess." Tabethys shrugged. He took a bite of seared slaughterfish, the flavor bursting in his mouth. "By the gods, this is _delicious!"_ he exclaimed through his half-chewed bite. 

Romlyn laughed. "I told ya!" 

"So what made you want to start a union in Riften, anyways? I mean, why not just leave?" Tabethys asked. 

"Well, I guess I was just tired of things being the way they were. I've lived here since I was a kid; I've made a lot of friends here. I didn't want to see my friends continue to suffer, y'know? Sometimes, enough is enough and time comes to take a stand." Romlyn looked out over The Bee and Barb. "These are my people." 

Tabethys nodded. "That's very noble." 

"I don't know about _noble_. I'm just voicing thoughts and concerns that everyone in Riften who isn't rich has had." 

"It takes courage to speak up, to take action for something. It may not seem like it to you, but I guarantee it does to everyone who has joined you. And it will seem that way to the future generations of children who enjoy a peaceful and safe Riften because of you." 

Romlyn's face darkened as he blushed. "Ha, I don't know about all that, but thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that." 

Tabethys raised an eyebrow. "I'm just telling you the truth. How many people here had the same concerns as you about Riften and have done nothing? With the exception of Mjoll, everyone, it seems. You _are_ brave and noble." 

"Coming from you? I don't see it that way." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, you're, you know, the _Dragonborn!"_ Romlyn raised his hands. 

"I wasn't always," Tabethys mumbled. "And besides, like I said, I'm just a man. I'm not saving a community or doing anything extraordinary. I have no ties to anyone. I'm a drifter. Nothing to no one." 

"You don't have to be," Romlyn said softly. "You could stay here. Riften would love to have you." _I would love to have you_ , he didn't say. 

"No I couldn't. Death follows me everywhere I go." Tabethys pressed his mouth into a firm line. 

Romlyn wanted to press, but didn't; he could tell this was a sensitive subject. 

"Well, it's getting late," Tabethys said after a moment. "I'm gonna head off. Goodnight, Romlyn. It was nice talking to you." 

"Goodnight, Tabethys. I enjoyed this." Romlyn got up and stood there awkwardly. Should they hug? A handshake? Tabethys walked off without waiting to say any more pleasantries. Romlyn watched as he walked away, pleased with how the night went, even if it did end abruptly. Tabethys felt closed off to him; like a wild animal who needed to be coaxed into coming home. It might take a while to earn their trust, but it would be worth it in the end.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabethys enjoys a peaceful morning in Riften, but all is not what it appears to be, and things come to a head when Keerava steps forward to protect Talen-Jei.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is perhaps the most violent one yet and includes a minor character death, so read at your own risk. I hope you enjoy it. Comments and thoughts are always welcome. Thanks for reading!

Morning in Riften was the softest part of the day. The only people who were up when the sun broke dawn were the dock workers. The sun shone softly as Tabethys strolled through the docks enjoying the cool morning air, watching as it painted the eastern sky over Riften in brilliant orange and yellow hues. It was a golden morning, one of the first of autumn. 

A bosmer man was just ahead of him, back turned to him, staring off into space. 

"Hi," Tabethys said. "Oh you were at the meeting yesterday, weren't you?" 

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" the man hissed. 

"Oh sorry," Tabethys whispered. "What's your name?" 

"Ungrien. I work in the meadery." He squared his shoulders, trying to look proud, but Tabethys could tell it was rehearsed. 

"So Ungrien, tell me about Maven Black-Briar?" Tabethys probed. 

Ungrien looked around nervously. "She's an absolute pleasure to work for! In fact, I almost feel guilty accepting payment from her. Why, just this week I was commenting to my fellow meadery workers just how lucky we are to be working for such a charitable family," he said a bit too loudly and a bit too cheerily. 

Tabethys frowned. "It's okay, you can tell me the truth." 

"Okay look," Ungrien sighed. "If I'm caught saying anything bad about the meadery or the family, I'm a dead man. I'm the fourth person to work the tasting counter in the last year. The last three are the bottom of Lake Honrich." 

Tabethys looked at the Ungrien. He was small in stature, a little taller than Tabethys-- but then, most people were taller than Tabethys. His skin was a light shade of brown, and his eyes were a bright shade of amber. There was no hiding the fear that lay just behind them. 

"I understand," Tabethys said. And he meant it. He knew what it was like to live in fear every day. If he wasn't already starting to be invested in the new Riften union, he certainly was now. "Somehow, we'll fix this." 

Ungrien pressed his lips into a sad smile, looked down, and walked away. It was as if he were saying,  _ I'm sure you'll try, but just like everyone else, you'll fail _ . Perhaps he would. Perhaps they all would. But they had nothing lose and everything to gain. 

Tabethys walked around the market, browsing the stocks that Grelka, Madesi, and Brand-Shei had out to share. 

"You have an unusual name for a Dunmer," Tabethys remarked as he looked at Brand-Shei's wares. 

"Aye, I was orphaned and taken in by Argonians. They named me and raised me as their own," Brand-Shei explained. 

"Really? That's amazing! I had the same thing happen to me, except I was raised by Nords!" Tabethys said excitedly. 

"Wow! I've never met another Dunmer who wasn't raised by Dunmer. It's good to have a kindred spirit." Brand-Shei smiled kindly at Tabethys. 

"Do you know anything about your Dunmer family?" Tabethys asked. 

"I know when I was found by my Argonian father, I was wrapped in a blanket bearing the symbol of House Telvanni," Brand-Shei explained. "It was one of the great houses in Morrowind long ago. Whether that means I was one of them or not, I'm uncertain. If you come across anything in your travels that might provide me with the answers I'm looking for, I'd be grateful." 

"How odd, I have a very similar story. My Nord parents found me with the word 'Redoran'--also a Great House of Morrowind-- written on a note attached to the blanket I was wrapped in. I found out that the House has a presence in Solstheim, but when I went there, it was a dead end." Tabethys scrunched his brow. "So what brought you searching in Skyrim?" 

"Through my research, I learned that a matron who had served for House Telvanni had escaped Morrowind during the Accession War. Records show that she bought passage aboard a vessel named  _ The Pride of Tel Vos _ , but that's where the trail ran cold." Brand-Shei looked down at his hands. "I spent years looking for what became of the ship, but I ended up empty-handed." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I know how that feels," Tabethys sympathized. "I go all over Skyrim, so I'll be on the lookout. If I see anything, I'll bring it to you." 

Relief flooded Brand-Shei's face. "Really? Oh, that would mean so much to me. Anything you can find would help." 

Talen-Jei walked up to the shop beside Tabethys. "Brand-Shei, my friend! Do you have any flawless amethysts?" 

"I happen to have two right here." 

"Perfect, I'll buy them. I'm going to propose to Keerava in the traditional Argonian style. You must know all about that, huh?" 

"Sure, Talen-Jei. 'Course I do. Good luck!" 

Tabethys walked over to Marise's market. "Hey Marise. How's business today?" 

"Not good. I think people are more nervous than usual. I can feel it in the air." 

Tabethys frowned. "What do you mean?" 

Marise jerked her head towards the Black-Briar manor. Maven Black-Briar was standing up on her balcony, leaning against the railing, watching the market. She was grinning like a jester. 

"She's planning something," Marise hissed. "I just know it. I think other people know it, too." 

"Hm." Tabethys thought back to his conversation with Ungrien. He'd certainly seemed afraid. "You might be right." 

Just then, as Tabethys spoke, Maul walked over from Maven's house and entered the market. He wordlessly approached Talen-Jei, standing a little closer than was customary. A stunned hush fell over the marketplace. He stood tall, towering over the Argonian, separating him from the rest of the people, cutting him off from everyone. 

"Talen-Jei." Maul said. "Your days making mead are done." 

"M-my what?" Talen-Jei stammered. "Why?" He stumbled backwards, looking around himself for support, his long, scaly tail twitching. 

Tabethys saw out of the corner of his eye someone come out of the Bee and Barb. It was Keerava. Maul shoved Talen-Jei, hard and she gasped when she realized what was happening. 

"I said no more making mead!" Maul shouted at the small Argonian. "You're encroaching on Black-Briar territory, and it won't be tolerated." 

"Now wait a minute," Keerava said, running up to the thug, stepping in between him and Talen-Jei. Talen-Jei gripped her arm tight. "We have every right to make our own mead." 

"Not in this city you don't. You made an agreement not to buy mead from competitors.  _ Becoming  _ a competitor does not exempt you from this agreement." Maul looked down on the Argonians, his giant frame casting a shadow over them. 

"Oh yeah?" Keerava stepped closer to the man. "On whose authority do you tell us to stop making our own mead? There are no laws against it, so unless you want to go get the Jarl and explain to her why you're trying to enforce rules that don't exist, I suggest you  _ back off _ ." 

"By the authority of Maven Black-Briar, whom you very well know has more authority than the Jarl," Maul responded with a scoff. 

Keerava narrowed her eyes at him. Tabethys realized he was holding his breath, but he felt as though he couldn't exhale. The tension in the air was thick. Everyone looked unwaveringly at Keerava. Tabethys watched as she reached for the dagger strapped to her side and slowly wrapped her fingers around it. No one else seemed to notice. 

"I'm tired of you petty thieves pushing us around. You think you're so tough? You're nothing. No one  _ fears  _ you anymore! You have nothing! If all you can do to try and threaten honest, hard-working people out of making mead, then you've truly fallen to the lowest you can go." Keerava spat on the ground. "Just look at yourself. Your a corrupt woman's bitch, and you smell like skeever piss. Now fuck off back to the shit and corpse infested hole you--" Keerava was cut off by a wet, squelching sound. She looked down at her stomach, her face slowly contorting from confusion to pain, and fell to the ground. The crowd gasped, not believing what they were seeing. Everyone was still and silent. The soft lapping of the water flowing in the canal suddenly sounded overwhelmingly loud. 

" _ NO!!"  _ Talen-Jei screamed, finally breaking the spell. He lunged forward and grabbed the giant Nord by his throat, tackling him to the ground. Two guards ran over and started beating Talen-Jei, kicking him, punching him, all the while, Keerava lay on the ground, screaming silently, blood streaming from her stomach where she had been stabbed by Maven Black-Briar's bodyguard. 

Tabethys and Mjoll tackled the guards, restraining them from attacking Talen-Jei. Romlyn and Teldryn grabbed Talen-Jei, ripping him off the Nord. Marise, Grelka, and Brand-Shei grabbed Maul, restraining him. Blood was smeared on his stomach and chest, and more blood ran down his face from his nose where Talen-Jei had struck him. Talen-Jei struggled against Romlyn's and Teldryn's grasp, and Maul ripped his arm free from his captors. Tabethys and Mjoll released the guards. 

"Murderer!" Talen-Jei shouted, pointing at the man, struggling to regain his breath. "Guard! Guards! Take him to jail, he murdered Keerava in cold blood!!" 

The guards looked to Maven, who watched from her balcony. Tabethys felt his blood boil. Were they really waiting for her go-ahead to arrest a man who had just murdered someone right in front of everyone in broad daylight? She shook her head "no" ever so slightly, and the three guards looked at the crowd of people. 

"I was acting in self-defense. I committed no crime," Maul defended himself, smiling widely. 

The guards nodded. "Let him go." 

"What?!" Talen-Jei screeched, tears running down his cheeks. "You can't be serious!" 

One of the guards put his hand on Talen-Jei's shoulder, as if that was somehow an adequate apology. 

Tabethys let go of Maul. So did Marise and Brand-Shei. Mjoll held on to him tightly, however, clenching her teeth. 

"This is not justice!" she roared. "You call this  _ justice?!" _ She beat her chest with a fist. "That Black-Briar scum sits atop her paper throne, looking down on all of us as if she were a god! She is no god! She is just a woman like anyone else! How can she be allowed to ruin our city?! She orders men to kill, they follow blindly, and you  _ guards _ \--if you can even call yourselves that anymore--let it go on without a care in the world!" 

The two guards stepped forward and grabbed Mjoll, ripping her arm from Maul, who was scowling at her. 

"Let it go," one of the guards said. "Don't force us to take you in for disorderly conduct." 

"Disorderly conduct?!" Mjoll shouted. "I'll show you disorderly conduct!" With that, she swung a massive fist at Maul's head, knocking him to the ground, then she tackled him and started pummeling him. The stonework was stained red with his blood and with Keerava's blood, too. The sounds of her punches landing on Maul's head were almost deafening. The guards tackled her, but she threw them off like they were nothing. Talen-Jei yelled a battle cry and joined Mjoll in beating up Maul, who was rolled into a ball to protect himself from their fury. He may have been strong, but he was no match for an angry Mjoll. 

All hell broke lose. Everyone in the marketplace started shouting. Some in terror, most in rage. Tabethys looked up and caught the eyes of Grelka, Brand-Shei, Tythis, Mjoll, and Romlyn. Without so much as a subtle nod, the six of them tackled the guards and began throwing cobblestones at them. The guards grunted under the cobblestones. One of them looked up and met eyes with Tabethys. Fear spread across her face, and she immediately grabbed the arm of the guard next to her and motioned for them to retreat. 

The guards tried to run for the barracks, but the mob blocked access, screaming and shouting, pelting them with cobblestones. 

"Get out! Get out!" they started chanting. "Get out! Get out!" The mob moved with one mind, like a swarm of birds. They corralled the guards to the gates of Riften and pushed them out of the city. But the rage hadn't been spent yet. The people were still angry. The air was electric. 

Tabethys didn't think; he just felt. With pure emotion and rage, he looked up and watched as Maven Black-Briar's smug look turned slowly into irritation and disgust. He gathered a fireball in his hand, willing it to be powerful with his rage. He aimed right for Maven's head and threw it at her. She ducked, and then whirled around to glare at him. They locked eyes. Her dark brown eyes were emotionless. There was nothing there: no humanity, no kindness, no sympathy, nothing. She was a void. Tabethys's vibrant violet eyes did not hide his emotion; his anger and hatred was so clearly visible it might as well have been like reading words on a page. 

"Get out! Get out!" the crowd chanted, in unison. One voice became many as all the people who had been in the market or who had joined the crowd after watching the events unfold from their homes chanted the cry of opposition at the Black-Briar's front door. 

No one knew whose idea it was, or how the fire started, but suddenly, the Black-Briar manor was up in flames, with Maven at the top of the balcony, looking back and forth at the crowd and the growing flames. The crowd jeered and booed her, cheering for the now roaring fire. It spread fast, devouring the dry wood of the manor like a hungry dog. Maven disappeared from the balcony and went into the house. 

"Smoke her out! Smoke her out! Burn her to the ground!" the crowd yelled. A swarm of guards descended on the crowd, surrounding them, and started beating any member of the mob they could their hands on. 

Tabethys felt a hand grab him by the neck of his armor. He whirled around, dagger in hand, ready to defend himself. It was Teldryn. 

"We need to get these guards out of here!" he shouted. "Most of these people don't have armor, and that fire could spread." 

"On it!" Tabethys agreed. 

Together, the two of them started taking on the guards. Tabethys had two swords; he didn't want to risk adding more fire to a town that was already on fire. He swung left, parried right, and swung again. All around him, guards fell to the ground. But even though the townspeople were mostly defenseless, they weren't going down without a fight. Romlyn jumped in, grabbing a guard twice his size around the neck, tackling him to ground, using his own bodyweight as leverage. Tabethys landed a killing blow to the guard's chest. Marise used ice magic to throw solid ice spears at any guard coming her way. Even timid Bolli was putting up a fight, throwing stones and using his large body to sheild smaller people like Tythis and Ungrien, both of whom were zipping in and out of the crowd, making sure none of the guards could flank the mob. 

"Tabethys! Behind you!" Romlyn shouted. 

Tabethys whirled around, sword ready, and blocked the axe of a guard. With his other sword, he stuck the pig through his stomach, spilling guts and blood all over the cobblestone. The guard's lifeless body dropped to the ground, the bloody axe clattering as it fell. 

"They're retreating!" Ungrien shouted, pointing at the last few guards, running for the Bee and Barb. The crowd, full of vigor and zeal, chased the guards and barricaded them inside the inn. Tabethys, Teldryn, Marise, Romlyn, and Mjoll pushed their weight against the door of the inn. No one was getting out until the people decided to let them out. 

"Those fuckers don't give a shit about us," Tythis spat. He wiped some blood from his mouth, and his scowl turned to a wince. "What are we gonna do with them?" 

"We should kill them!" someone shouted. 

"Yeah!" someone else agreed. 

Romlyn, natural leader that he was, spoke up. "We should make them arrest and execute Maul. If they agree to do that, they can live." 

Mutters spread through the crowd. 

"That's a good idea," Bolli agreed. 

"And if they don't agree?" Talen-Jei asked. 

"Then we execute them for corruption!" Mjoll cheered. 

The crowd erupted into cheers. Tabethys could feel their rage, and it fueled him. He had half a mind to use his Dragon voice to Shout the corrupt guards into Oblivion himself. 

The Temple priests, hearing that the riot had quieted, left the Temple and began tending the wounded. Jarl Laila was nowhere to be seen. Neither were Maul or the Black-Briars. The Priest of Mara's acolyte and Alessandra, the caretaker of the dead, tended to Keerava's body. Maramal, the lead priest of the Temple, approached Tabethys, who was still helping to barricade the door. 

"You have quite a few cuts," the priest stated. He held out a cloth and a healing potion. "Let me tend to your wounds." 

Tabethys didn't like being tended to, but he was too tired to protest, so he sat down. Gently, Maramal removed Tabethys's chitin cuirass, exposing Tabethys's top half. It was covered in scars. The priest sucked in his breath. 

"These aren't all fresh," he murmured so only Tabethys could hear. 

"Being the Dragonborn is dangerous work," Tabethys stated. 

Maramal didn't respond; he just began cleaning the fresh wounds and applying the healing potion to the bruises and cuts the guards had inflicted on Tabethys. Tabethys winced as the healing potion burned the fresh cuts. 

"Sorry about that," Maramal said. 

"It's okay," Tabethys grunted. He wondered why the man didn't just use healing magic. It would have been a lot easier. After a few moments, the priest stood up.

"You're all set now. How does it feel?" His voice was genuine, as if he really cared about Tabethys, and this wasn't just his job. 

"Better, thank you." 

Maramal smiled. "No thanks necessary. You have defended us all, including me, at least twice already. It's an honor to heal the Dragonborn." 

Tabethys didn't know what to say to that, so he just remained silent. Maramal took his leave and went off to find someone else to tend to. 

Teldryn leaned over to look at Tabethys. He was just sitting there, holding his cuirass in his hands, looking down at it. The scars and faded wounds on his back looked like a constellation of stars: pure chaos, connected by random, interweaving lines. The wounds from the earlier riot had already scarred over thanks to the healing potion, adding more chaos to the canvas. 

"You okay?" Teldryn asked. 

Tabethys snapped out of his reverie. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine. Just tired." 

The sun was beginning to set, and the crowd was growing restless again. 

Talen-Jei approached the front door of The Bee and Barb and banged on the door. "Guards! You agree to our terms, and we'll let you live. You disregard them, you sign your own execution. Understood?!" 

"Yes, yes! Anything!" one of the guards weakly replied. He sounded hysterical. 

"You will comply?" Marise asked, placing a supportive hand on Talen-Jei's shoulder. 

"Yes! We swear!" a different guard agreed. Marise gestured for everyone to move back from the door; they did, and she opened it. Tabethys and Teldryn grabbed the first two guards; Mjoll grabbed the third. They did not resist. 

"What do you want from us?" one the guards asked. 

Tythis crossed his arms across his chest. "Quit the guard and join us. Find and execute the murderer Maul." 

"What?!" the guard in the middle exclaimed. "You must be joking." 

No one said anything. 

"I can't quit the guard!" he cried. 

"Then you're a traitor," Mjoll stated. 

The guard scoffed. "How does that make me a traitor?" 

Mjoll stepped forward. "You betray your own people, the citizens of Riften, for Maven Black-Briar, a corrupt beast who does not have a shred of decency. Do you think she cares about you? She doesn't. You are replaceable to her: a cog in a machine that she has built only to suit her needs. The moment you stop being useful to her, the moment she no longer sees you as an effective means to protect her capital, she will kill you." 

The guards shuffled their feet. Mjoll stared at them, her gaze heavy. "You have more in common with us than you do with her. You will never be her. She doesn't deserve your protection."

The timid guard stepped forward. He removed his helmet, revealing his face. He was young, a Redguard, couldn't have been older than nineteen. "I'll join you." His voice cracked as he spoke. 

Mjoll placed her hand on his shoulder. 

"I never wanted to be a guard anyway," he rambled. "My folks just said that I should. But after seeing everything that went on here today… I never even knocked an arrow. That man murdered Keerava! And because of Maven, a murderer like that can be just let go." The Redguard hung his head. "I came into this with the notion that I would be protecting my fellow citizens from people like that! But lately, all I've been noticing is that this job isn't what I thought it would be. We don't protect anyone. We just make sure no one encroaches on Maven's territory." He threw his helmet down on the ground and spat on it. 

A few members of the crowd cheered, but Talen-Jei glared at him in contempt. "Just because you say a few words doesn't exempt you from the horribleness of your actions today," he said. His voice was low but clear. The people who were cheering for the guard quieted. "You let my love's murderer go free. When he kills again, and he will, that's on you." He pointed to each of the guards standing there. "All of you." He turned around and walked away. 

"Talen-Jei is right," Ungrien said after a moment. "We shouldn't accept  _ any _ guards into our ranks. Who's to say he won't go crying back to Maven and betray us all?" 

"I won't!" the guard protested. "Really, I won't." 

Tythis stroked his beard thoughtfully. "We don't have to trust him. He must know some stuff about the Black-Briars and the Jarl. Perhaps he can be an informant. Over time, he may prove himself to us. He was willing to renounce the guard; we can give him a shot." 

"Fine, but what about the other two?" Ungrien asked, gesturing to the two guards who were still wearing their helmets. 

"We gave them a choice. They chose." Mjoll took out her giant, two-handed axe. The guards stepped a little closer together. "Last chance." 

Neither guard moved to take off their helmets. "Just do it if you're going to!" one of them shouted. 

  
With one swift movement, Mjoll swung her axe, beheading the first guard. She heaved the axe over her head again, and with a final downward chop, she beheaded the second guard. The helmeted head fell to the ground with a  _ thunk _ as the metal face bracket smacked the cobblestone road. The guard's body collapsed to the ground all at once, as if he were a puppet whose strings had just been snipped.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret tunnels, boy talk, jealousy, and dangerous waters. 'Nuff said.

The next morning, the town was in shambles. The Black-Briar house was a skeleton of its former self thanks to the fires from the previous night. Luckily it had started raining before the fire could spread to any other building. The wooden plankway that led up to the house were a little singed, but it was nothing a few new boards couldn't fix. None of the members of the Black-Briar family could be found. Even Sibbi Black-Briar, who had been in jail, was nowhere to be seen. If any of them needed any more proof that the guards were in on the Black-Briar corruption, this would have been it. 

The air was thick with humidity, and the rain clouds from the night before had yet to dissipate. It had stopped raining hours ago, but the air still tasted like a coming storm, and the pale gray clouds were thick and getting darker. 

"Look, I've lived in Riften my whole life. I can tell you, there are no good guards," Romlyn was saying to Mjoll. They were sitting at the well, watching the people go about their daily business. The city was still on edge, but the emotional aura was more muted than it had been the night of the riot. Edda, one of the beggars, sat in her usual spot, clothed only in rags, waiting for someone to talk to her. 

"What about our new comrade?" Mjoll asked. 

The young former guard, Daron, had been enthusiastic about joining the Riften People's Union. He had listened intently at the meeting that had gone on that morning. Everyone had convened at Mjoll's house, discussing what their next steps should be. It was agreed that an investigation should be launched into finding Maul's and the Black-Briar family's whereabouts; the union was given a name; and Damon had been been tentatively accepted into the fold after he explained what he knew of the Black-Briars. He informed the Riften People's Union that Jarl Laila and Maven had gotten into an argument about the contents of Black-Briar mead, and that it had gotten rather heated. Daron and some of the other guards actually had to escort Maven out of the Keep, which was almost unheard of. He didn't know what the issue about the ingredients of the mead was specifically, but if it was serious enough to upset the Jarl, it must be pretty serious; after all, the Jarl could be persuaded to look the other way for most of the corrupt, illegal activity that happened in Riften. After the meeting ended, Romlyn stayed behind to visit with Mjoll. They had strolled through town until their conversation took a more serious turn, so they sat at the well. 

"Okay, all I can say is that all the guards are bastards. Maybe a person enters the guard with the best of intentions, but those are few and far between. Honestly, I think most enter because they're bullies; so many of the guards who use their position as a way to bully other people." Romlyn sighed. "But okay, for the sake of the argument, a good person joins the guard. That person can either stay true to their moral compass, and, upon discovering how corrupt the force is, leave, thus no longer being a guard. Or, in order to keep their job, the guard starts to do things that other guardsmen are doing, like taking bribes, looking the other way when a member of the Thieves Guild robs someone, or any number of other, more heinous things--like refusing to arrest someone who committed murder in broad daylight." 

Mjoll's brow was knit. "And if a guard tries to reform the force from the inside?" 

"There was an instance of someone trying that. I knew her when we were kids. She was a good person. A Nord girl, real heroic type. Kinda like you, actually." Romlyn paused, nostalgia misting his eyes. "She entered the guard, tried to arrest a Thieves Guild member when she caught the guy stealing from a shop cart. Next morning, she was found dead in the Ratway." 

Mjoll's face fell. "I think I see what you are saying." 

"All the 'good' guards either quit, turn bad, or get killed; therefore, there aren't any good guards." Romlyn frowned. "That's why it doesn't surprise me that the kid left to join us. He wasn't cut out for being a guard." 

Mjoll nodded. "I was a guard once. It seems like ages ago. I lived in Whiterun. I quit when I was reprimanded for not arresting a little orphan girl who stole a piece of bread." 

"People who were once guards but who left because they know how corrupted it was, like you, aren't the enemy. As you said, the guards have more in common with us than people like Maven. Everyone thinks they're one promotion away from becoming Maven, but really, we're all one day of missed work away from becoming Edda." 

Mjoll didn't say anything for a while. "You have given me much to think about, my friend." She stood and left to go back to her house, stopping to give Edda a few gold pieces on her way back. 

Romlyn sat at the well by himself, listening to the hollowed out sound of the water all the way down at the bottom. The voices of the people in the market were quieter than normal. Even Grelka almost sounded kind. Romlyn's mind drifted, and he wondered how he was going to conduct an investigation into a woman who everyone knew was corrupt, but no one had any direct proof of it. Where would she have left letters? He thought back to the letter Maven had written to the Thieves Guild he had found in the meadery that day last week. Was it only last week? It felt like a lifetime ago. He decided that after night fell, he would go into the meadery and search every last inch of it. If there was something in there, he would find it. 

"Hey," Marise said, sneaking up behind him. "You look lost in thought." 

Romlyn jumped. "Oh! I was. I totally was." 

"Planning how you're going to get the Dragonborn to notice you?" she asked, sticking her tongue out at him.

" _ What?! _ " he gasped. "No!" He could feel the tips of his ears burning and his cheeks turning a dark purple. 

Marise giggled like a schoolgirl. "I knew it! You  _ liiiike _ him!" 

Romlyn blushed harder. "By Azura, what are you, twelve?!" 

"I have to admit, I never pictured you liking someone like that," she said, sitting next to him on the well. 

"Like what?" Romlyn asked a bit more defensively than he meant to. 

Marise laughed. "He's the quiet, brooding type! All the guys you've dated before have been, well, sunshiny airheads." 

"He's not  _ that  _ brooding," Romlyn grumbled. 

"Well, he's definitely hot, I'll give you that." Marise jabbed him in the side playfully. 

Romlyn sighed. Marise had been his most trusted confidant since they were children. Being the same age and being some of the only Dunmer in the city as children, they were pretty much each other's only option for friendship back in the day. 

"He  _ is _ ." Romlyn groaned as a memory surfaced. "I was daydreaming about him the day of the first union meeting and oh my  _ gods _ , he showed up at my house! Literally! I lost the ability to speak. I made a complete fool out of myself stuttering like a child." 

Marise snorted. "By Azura, Romlyn. We have got to teach you how to be smooth." 

"I don't think I can be taught. I just have to find someone willing to put up with my dumbass," Romlyn laughed. 

"You will." She put an arm around him. "There's plenty of idiots out there. You'll find your own personal idiot. Any idiot would be an idiot not to love you." 

Romlyn leaned on her shoulder. "Aw, thanks," he said half-sarcastically. 

They sat like that for a while, watching the people come and go, talking about things that didn't matter. Theirs was a friendship of comfort and familiarity. Romlyn looked up at the clouds, studying their ripples and valleys. They were a darker shade of gray now, but he didn't mind. The sun was always too bright for him. He didn't know if anyone would ever know him the way Marise did. She had never been with anyone as far as Romlyn knew, and he doubted if she ever would. She had once told him that their friendship was enough for her, that she preferred a life that was all hers. Pledging herself to someone forever was too much to give up. She had a point; it was terrifying to be so vulnerable to someone to marry them. But Romlyn had always wanted a husband as long as he could remember. He was starting to accept that maybe he wasn't meant to have one. That Marise would be all the family he would get. He leaned harder on her sturdy shoulder. 

_______________

Teldryn and Tabethys were going through Maven's house, looking for any clue about the criminal activity she was involved in. Teldryn mostly saw ruined books, tattered clothes, and broken furniture. Not much as survived the blaze. He pushed a bookshelf out of the way and leaned down to observe something that caught his eye. A little black lockbox was nestled between the bookshelf and the wall. 

"Hey Tab, check this out," Teldryn called. Tabethys came crashing through the house, banging into chairs, tables, and cast iron pots and pans that had mostly survived the fire. Teldryn scooted over so Tabethys could clearly see the strongbox. 

"Oh sweet. I wonder what's in there." Tabethys took out his ring of lockpicks and got to work picking the lock. Teldryn watched as Tabethys's expert, nimble fingers worked the pin and tumbler, twisting them around just so. Teldryn heard a metallic snap. 

"Shit," Tabethys cursed under his breath. He got out another pin and stuck it into the lock, exhaled, and started picking it again. This time, the lock  _ clicked _ and the strongbox sprung open. 

Teldryn leaned over Tabethys's shoulder to see what was inside. 

"Woah," they both gasped. Inside were flawless amethysts, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and even a flawless diamond. Tabethys picked up one of the rubies and held it up to a sunbeam that was streaming in through the busted roof. It glittered brilliantly, every face perfectly buffed, the color a rich, deep red. 

Teldryn looked back into the box, moving some of the precious gems around. Underneath them was a mysterious key. It was ebony with silver and green accents, and twisted all around itself in an ornate design. Teldryn held it up so Tabethys could see. 

"What do you think this is for?" he asked. 

Tabethys took it from Teldryn and scrutinized it. "I have no idea," he said quietly. He stuck it into a pocket on the inside of his red Dunmeri shirt and stood up. "Let's find out." 

The pair left the ruined estate and walked into the market, approaching Romlyn who was sitting on the well talking to Marise. 

"Aw thanks," he was saying, his head on her shoulder. Were they a couple? 

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Tabethys stuttered. Romlyn quickly straightened himself and stood up. 

"No! Not at all. What is it you need, my friend?" 

Teldryn glared at Romlyn. He didn't trust that fair haired mer. There was something suspicious about him. The way he jumped when Tabethys was around like he had something to hide. 

"This key." Tabethys took out the key and held it up. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?" 

Romlyn looked at the key and took it, holding it close to his eyes. He studied the designs. Something flashed in his eyes. Recognition? "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it before." 

Marise looked at it, too, turning it over in her palm. "Where did you find it?" she asked. 

"Maven's house," Tabethys replied, "in a hidden strongbox."

Romlyn raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea then." He handed the key back to Tabethys. "If it was hidden in her house, it probably has something to do with her shady business. I'd check in the meadery if I were you. I can show you around if you want." 

Tabethys smiled. "That would be great. Thank you." 

Teldryn groaned internally, thankful for the scarf, goggles, and helmet concealing his face. He could glare at Romlyn all he wanted to and no one would know. 

The trio crossed the plaza and entered the meadery. Indaryn was in there, manning the bar. "Oh to Oblivion with you," he said, crossing his arms and stepping towards Romlyn. "You're not coming in here. No, you're fired. And if I were you, I'd watch your back, because you might be a dead man soon." 

Romlyn scoffed. "Whatever, Indaryn. Let us through. We burned down Maven's house. You think we wouldn't do the same to you?" 

Indaryn scowled, but stepped aside. The golden threads in his fine robes glinted in the sliver of sunlight from the open door. 

"The main part of the meadery is through here," Romlyn explained, leading them behind the bar. "I've explored this place tons of times and never found a secret locked door, but now that the Black-Briars are gone, we might be able to look more thoroughly. Maybe we should look and your bodyguard can stand watch in case Indaryn gets any ideas--" he lowered his voice-- "like calling the guards." 

"Good idea," Tabethys agreed. "Teldryn, stay here. Watch the door, make sure no one comes after us. Holler if you see anything." 

"As you command." Teldryn stood at the door, rage boiling up inside of him. That conniving little thief. He'd heard stories from Talen-Jei and Balimund at the Bee and Barb about Romlyn's side business. Teldryn himself wasn't exactly clear of conscious, but he thought it a little odd that a man like  _ that  _ was leading a revolution. He hoped Tabethys saw through it. 

He heard the two of them laughing down the hall, and jealousy surged in his chest. What he wouldn't give to go down there and drag Tabethys out of town. They could leave Riften, go exploring Skyrim. Maybe help someone else would was, well, not into Tabethys. They laughed again and shame eclipsed the jealousy. Teldryn realized he'd never heard Tabethys laugh like that before. His laughter was soft, like rain from inside a dry building in summer. It was a good noise, and he wanted to hear it more. 

Teldryn sighed. Tabethys was his own person. If Romlyn made him happy, then he deserved to be with him. No one deserved to be happy like Tabethys did. Teldryn just wished  _ he  _ was the one to make him happy. 

Romlyn and Tabethys came back up the hallway. "We searched all the rooms thoroughly," Tabethys said, stifling a giggle. "Even took the books off the bookshelf in the office. There's no secret entrance." Romlyn looked over at Tabethys, a smile bigger than a Telvanni's ego across his face. Tabethys looked back at him, smiling, too. His smile was genuine--beautiful, too. Teldryn gritted his teeth behind his scarf. 

"Are we ready to get moving?" he asked tersely. 

"Yeah!" Tabethys chirped. 

"I think we should check the Black-Briar house again. Maybe you missed something the first time," Romlyn suggested. 

"We didn't  _ miss _ anything," Teldryn mumbled. Tabethys didn't hear him though, or ignored him, and marched on towards the Black-Briar manor, Romlyn right beside him and Teldryn behind them. 

Again, Teldryn was told to stand guard while Romlyn and Tabethys searched the house. As he stood by the front door, he heard them laughing and felt a pang in his chest. He wondered what they were laughing about. What could possibly be so funny? 

"Woah," Teldryn overheard Tabethys say. "Teldryn, you gotta come see this!" Teldryn smiled. He was the first person Tabethys called when he found something. At least he had that going for him. Teldryn coolly walked back to where Tabethys was. He had pushed aside a bookcase and found a tunnel. Romlyn came up behind Teldryn. 

"Holy shit," Romlyn said. "I'm betting that tunnel has something to do with the key you found. I'm also betting that wherever it leads is where the Black-Briars are." 

"Yes, how astute of you," Teldryn commented. 

Tabethys said nothing but ran ahead to explore the tunnel. "I love tunnels!" he shouted as he ran down it, his arms outstretched, hands running along the stone walls. 

The tunnel was long, dark, and smelled of wet earth. Tabethys's enthusiastic footsteps made echoing noises as they slapped against the cobblestone. The tunnel itself wasn't very tall; an Altmer would have to bend halfway over to walk through it. Luckily, the three Dunmer men were relatively short, so they were able to fit inside it with ease. Teldryn wondered if the Nords who had built it struggled with walking its depths, too. 

Teldryn followed after Tabethys in a light jog. Romlyn hesitated at the mouth of the tunnel. 

"Hey guys?!" he shouted, trepidation lacing the edges of his words. "Shouldn't we maybe, I dunno, ask around first before we go into a random secret tunnel?" 

Tabethys halted mid sprint and turned back to face Romlyn. "Nah it'll be fine! We have swords. If we run into any draugr, I can take 'em." 

" _ Draugr?! _ " Romlyn squeaked. "I don't have a sword! I don't even know how to  _ use _ a sword!" 

"Then stay behind," Teldryn said, no sympathy in his voice. 

Romlyn opened and closed his mouth, stunned. "I-I... yeah I guess that's a good--that's what I'd better do." 

"No don't stay behind! Come with us, it'll be fun!" Tabethys pleaded. 

Teldryn cocked his head at him. "The dude can't even use a sword, why would you want him to come with us? He's a liability; he'll slow us down." 

Romlyn hung his head. "Yeah. He's right, Tabethys. I don't want to get in your way." 

"Oh," Tabethys said glumly. "Well, let the others know what we found. If we don't come back before sunrise tomorrow, something happened." 

"Okay, I will." 

Tabethys and Teldryn turned to keep walking down the tunnel. 

"Oh, and Tabethys?" Romlyn said. 

Tabethys turned around. 

"Stay safe. Please." Desperation choked his words. 

Tabethys smiled at Romlyn. "Don't worry about me. I've faced worse. I'll be okay, promise." 

The pair continued down the tunnel, Teldryn matching Tabethys's quick, long strides. The tunnel twisted and turned, taking them deep into the earth. There were sconces with torches lit every so often, although a few of the torches had long since burned out. The deeper they went, the darker it got. 

"Are you claustrophobic?" Tabethys asked Teldryn after a while, his smooth voice echoing off the walls. 

"No. Are you?" Teldryn repeated the question. 

"I'm not gonna lie: a little bit." Tabethys turned to face Teldryn; he was gritting his teeth, his purple-grey face paler than usual. 

"We can stop if you want to. Take a break." Teldryn stopped walked and looked Tabethys in his amethyst eyes. 

Tabethys sighed. "Oh, yes please." He plopped down onto the ground in the tunnel, letting his head flop against the stone wall. 

Teldryn sat next to him, their shoulders touching, and took off his helmet. The silence of the tunnel was overwhelmingly loud. Uninhibited by distraction, Teldryn's thoughts rushed him like a greedy bandit. He stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about how to word the question he wanted to add. 

Finally, he spoke, "You like Romlyn, don't you?" He tried to keep his tone neutral, but there was no concealing the emotion in his voice. Fear mingled with nervousness, creating a weak tone that Teldryn despised. 

Tabethys breathed in sharply. "I don't know. Maybe. Why?" 

"I was--no, no reason. Just curious." 

Tabethys looked over at Teldryn, eyebrow raised inquisitively. "Just curious? Aren't mercenaries supposed to be a little more emotionally detached than this?" 

"I'm not a mercenary," Teldryn scoffed. "There's no crime in us being friends."  _ Or maybe a little more _ , Teldryn wanted to add. 

Tabethys smirked. "No, no there isn't. Well, I suppose I can be honest. I think Romlyn is nice. Sweet, even. But I'm not the type of man who settles down. Life always has a way of taking everything I want away from me in the worst way. I've learned not to want things. I'm cursed, Teldryn, I swear it to you." 

"What do you mean?" Teldryn asked. 

"Every time I admit that I want something, something comes up and it becomes impossible to attain." 

"Come on, every time? I don't believe that." 

"No really!" Tabethys insisted. "Like one time, there was a girl, and she was beautiful. She was nice to me and came by the farm to buy eggs specifically when she knew I was there. So one night, I wrote about her in my journal. I was young, maybe thirteen. But I wrote about how beautiful she was and how I longed to know her better, perhaps kiss her. The next day, my mother told me she wouldn't be coming back anymore. She and her family had moved away. And I never saw her again." 

"Okay, so a girl you liked moved away. That doesn't make you cursed." 

"But it's not just that. Like, I've wanted a family and never had one. I wanted to stay at the farmhouse I built up north, but then a dragon came, burned it down, and I learned I was the Dragonborn and prophesized to save the world. And that's just off the top of my head!" 

Teldryn laughed. "Okay, so you've had a rough life! But that doesn't meant you can never want anything." 

Tabethys looked Teldryn in the eye. His face was riddled with some complex emotion that Teldryn couldn't decipher. "Never wanting anything is how you get sucked into things that go against who you are as a person. Never wanting anything at all… that's no way to lead a life. If you never want anything, you never have anything to work towards, then well, then you may as well not even  _ be _ alive," Teldryn said. 

Tabethys frowned. "I guess so. Maybe you're right. It's just hard to want things sometimes." 

"When you think about it, really think about it, what  _ do _ you want?" 

Tabethys looked at Teldryn, an unmistakable expression of desire on his face. Teldryn leaned in closer to Tabethys, their noses almost touching. Tabethys closed his eyes and put his forehead to Teldryn's. His forehead was cool, and the closeness was almost too much for Teldryn to bear. 

Apparently, Tabethys felt the same way because took a sharp breath in and looked up. Just as he looked up, a droplet of water fell on his forehead, and he startled and blinked. "To find out where on Nirn this tunnel leads!" 

He jumped up and reached down to help Teldryn up. Teldryn chuckled and shook his head, but he took the mer's hand and got up and put his helmet back on. "Let's get going, then!" 

He tried to keep his thoughts from dwelling on the moment that had just transpired, but it was no use. He analyzed every detail of the moment as he followed Tabethys down the tunnel. Tabethys smelled like adventure and fire, something that Teldryn would never tire of. The soft sounds of his nervous breathing worried Teldryn. He wanted to know what was going on inside Tabethys's head. Why was he nervous? Was it because he  _ liked _ Teldryn? Or perhaps was it because he feared Teldryn? So many men in Teldryn's past had feared him. They viewed him as animalistic because of his profession or maybe even because he was a Dunmer. Even other Dunmer men sometimes feared him. Teldryn was tired of being feared, but he didn't know what other role to play in life, so he just made his living off of it. 

That was one of the things he had liked about Tabethys; he wasn't afraid of Teldryn. If that had changed… if his desire made Tabethys afraid… Teldryn shook his head. Maybe Tabethys wasn't the only one afraid to want something--or some _ one _ . 

They continued on their path down the tunnel. Just ahead, the path forked in three directions. Water was dripping more in the tunnels now, and it was beginning to pool in the dips of the uneven ground. It was smelling more like rain, and the earth was cooler now, too. 

"Which way should we go?" Tabethys asked, hands on his hips. 

"You're the patron; you tell me." It was a careful choice of words: remind Tabethys he had the power in this relationship. Maybe then he wouldn't be so afraid of Teldryn. 

Tabethys stood at the fork, looking intently at the path on the left. Just as he took a step towards it, a stream of water started flowing down the path. It was small, only a few inches deep, but moving swiftly. 

"That could be a good sign of a way out," Tabethys observed. "Let's go!" 

They started down the left path, Tabethys splashing along in the puddles, laughing maniacally. "I just love the water!" He reached down and splashed it up at Teldryn. 

"You are so lucky I'm wearing my helm right now, because if that got on my face, I don't care how cute you are, I'd kick your ass. That water's nasty," Teldryn complained. 

Tabethys laughed. "C'mon, man, lighten up!" 

Teldryn grumped, and Tabethys laughed again. They kept walking; Tabethys kept splashing, but he made a conscious effort not to splash Teldryn. The water gradually began to flow faster, and the steady stream was beginning to look more like a crick than a trickle. 

"I really don't like water," Teldryn complained, picking his feet up as high as he could to keep them from getting wet. The water was up to his calves now, and he wasn't happy about it. There seemed to be no end to this tunnel, and they'd been walking for what felt like forever. The torches were still burning bright, but that didn't say much; put the right material on a torch end, and it could burn for days, and with the help of magic, weeks even. 

Teldryn struggled to place his feet firmly on the ground in the now thigh-high rushing water. Tabethys seemed to be struggling, too, but not as much. He was far ahead of Teldryn. 

"Don't get too far ahead!" Teldryn shouted, trying to conceal the panic in his voice. The tunnel wasn't very high, and the water was rising fast. What would they do if they ran out of space to breath before they got out? Teldryn felt his breath quicken. He  _ really  _ didn't like being in water. He looked ahead, keeping his gaze intently on the confident Tabethys. Wait, where was Tabethys? His head had just been there, long ponytail bobbing as he walked, now he was gone! 

"Tabethys!!" Teldryn screamed. He reached up and yanked the scarf off from his mouth, gasping for air. The water was chest deep now and pulling at Teldryn's legs, as if it were a monster trying to drown him. "Tabethys where are you?!" 

Teldryn scrambled against the current, half running, half swimming, panic brimming in his throat. "Tabethys!!" he roared. He fell forward, stumbling in the water. He slipped, his chitin boots unable to keep traction on the slick ground beneath him; they were made for ash, not water! He fell face first into the dark, cold water. Quickly, he righted himself, bobbing in the water. Ahead of him, he thought he saw Tabethys's head. 

"Teldryn!!" he heard Tabethys shout, sounding as panicked as Teldryn felt. 

"I'm over here!" Teldryn yelled back over the sound of the rushing water. 

Tabethys swam back towards Teldryn, and they wrapped their arms around each other briefly, each helping the other stand tall against the rushing current. As they held each other, they pushed against the current, making slow, deliberate steps in the water forwards. They had to get to the end, fast. 

The water level kept rising, and now it was at their noses. Teldryn strained to keep his head above water, standing on his tip toes and tilting his head back to get air. Walking on tip toes was not ideal in the fast moving current, though, and he slipped and fell into the water again. 

"Teldryn!" Tabethys gasped, grabbing the mer and hoisting him up out of the water. 

The water level was taller than both of them now, so they swam along, treading water furiously, trying to swim against the current. There was only enough room for their heads at the top of the tunnel now, their feet unable to touch the ground. Teldryn breathed hard, too focused on not drowning to be anxious. 

"I think I made the wrong call," Tabethys panted. 

"Don't think about that right now. Just focus on getting out of here," Teldryn huffed. 

"Teldryn, I don't think we're gonna make it out of here. This water is moving too fast, and there's no end." Tabethys turned around and pointed behind them. "Look," he said. 

The tunnel dipped lower, the water level fully concealing the path behind them. The entire thing was submerged. There was no going back. 

"We  _ will _ get out of here," Teldryn insisted. "Just keep fighting." 

Tabethys closed his eyes, a pained expression washing over him. "I feel like my body's on fire." 

"Here," Teldryn said, reaching into his pack. He pulled out a white vial. "It's Waterbreathing." 

"You should drink it," Tabethys said, shaking his head. "Don't waste it on me." 

"I want you to drink it. You're the better swimmer." 

Tabethys looked at him. "But you could die." Water was streaming down his face. Teldryn couldn't tell if he was crying or if it was because of the flooding. 

Teldryn raised his eyebrows in a pleading look. "I know." 

"Teldryn… no. I'm not abandoning you." Tabethys reached out and touched Teldryn's face, then pulled him into a hug. Teldryn wrapped his arms around Tabethys's waist, savoring the moment. 

Teldryn took a deep breath and pulled away. "I need you to do this. You are the better swimmer. Get out of here and find help. The water level seems to have slowed. I can cast a basic Waterbreathing spell.  _ Please _ , Tabethys." 

Tabethys took one last, long look at Teldryn, then he grabbed the potion and downed it. Then he cast Candlelight, the soft blue light softening the terrifying cavern, reflecting off the water and casting shadows on Tabethys's face, accentuating his determined, fearful expression. With a splash, Tabethys dove into the water and swam away. He was gone. 

The cavern was empty except for Teldryn. The only sound was the rushing water and his own breathing. The water splashed, dousing the last torch. Blackness surrounded Teldryn, and he felt the water rise even farther, engulfing his mouth and nose. He cast Waterbreathing and let the water overtake him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still a work in progress. Up til now, I've had a buffer of about three chapters, but the next chapter is actually only halfway done. It will be published, but probably not as soon as other chapters have been. Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabethys makes it out of the flooded tunnel. Romlyn sends a message (and finds himself in a bit of a situation).

Tabethys took one last, long look at Teldryn, then grabbed the Waterbreathing potion and downed it. He cast Candlelight and dove into the water, swimming with the current back the way he came, pulling himself through the water like a ribbon. The faint light from the spell cast long bluish shadows in the murky depths, but it was enough for Tabethys to be able to see the fork in the path. He turned right, back the way he came, and pushed fast. The Waterbreathing potion had worn off, and his lungs were bursting, all his muscles cramping from the frigid waters.

Finally, he came to the top of the tunnel, and burst out of the waters, dragging himself onto the floor, gasping. 

"Help!" he shouted hoarsely. "Someone _help!!_ " 

"Tabethys?!" Romlyn cried. He ran into the house, kneeling by his side, Marise right behind him. Romlyn put a gentle hand on Tabethys's drenched back. "What happened?" he asked urgently. 

"Teldryn…" Tabethys coughed, some water spurting out, and pointed back into the tunnel. 

"Is he still in there?" Marise asked. 

Tabethys nodded, coughing up more water.

"Oh no, what happened?!" Mjoll cried, running to help Tabethys up. She grabbed one of his arms and put it over her shoulders, and Romlyn grabbed his other arm, placing his hand on Tabethys's stomach to steady him. Tabethys groaned. Talen-Jei, Brand-Shei, and Madesi stood in the doorway, trying to get a glimpse of their friend. 

"The tunnels must have flooded during the storm," Marise suggested. 

"Let's take him to the temple. Maramal should know what to do," Madesi suggested. 

Mjoll and Romlyn walked Tabethys to the temple, Romlyn's hands quivering as they walked. Brand-Shei, Madesi, and Talen-Jei followed. 

"This is my fault," Romlyn insisted. 

"What?" Marise asked. 

"I let them go!" Romlyn shouted. 

"No," Tabethys coughed. "You didn't bring the rains. It's not your fault." 

Romlyn looked down at his feet. 

They reached the temple, and Tabethys took his arm off of Mjoll's giant shoulders and stumbled into a pew. Tabethys closed his eyes and focused everything he had on breathing. 

Maramal came out from the back and, on seeing the weak Dragonborn and his friends in his temple, dropped his sermon book and ran over. 

"What happened?" he asked flatly. 

"He was in a tunnel in the Black-Briar manor, but it flooded. He almost drowned," Romlyn explained between panicked breaths. He held Tabethys's hand tightly, not wanting to let go for fear that Tabethys would slip away. 

"Teldryn," Tabethys said weakly. 

"Teldryn is still in there, too. Tabethys is too weak to go back for him," Marise said. 

"What does Teldryn need?" Mjoll asked Maramal. 

Maramal, not looking up from the healing spell he was weaving over Tabethys, pointed with his elbow towards the back room. "Get some healing potions and Waterbreathing potions. Take as many as you can carry." 

Mjoll nodded, and she and the rest ran off, leaving Romlyn alone with Tabethys. 

"Just hang on," Romlyn whispered, brushing a wet strand of hair out of Tabethys's face. Tabethys looked up at Romlyn, eyes glassy, and a small smile graced his lips. 

"Romlyn," Tabethys murmured. He squeezed Romlyn's hand weakly, then leaned back and closed his eyes, succumbing to Maramal's intense healing magic. 

_______________

Marise, Mjoll, Talen-Jei, Brand-Shei, and Madesi ran back into the priest's private quarters, rifling through every potion he kept. 

"I found some healing potions," Mjoll said, holding up a large philter and two small vials. 

Marise grabbed two white bottles, looking at the labels. Each one gave thirty seconds of Waterbreathing. 

"Let's go," she said, standing up. They ran out of the temple, looking down at the unconscious Dragonborn. Romlyn was holding his hand and stroking his face. 

They got to the burned down house, every surface soaked with rainwater. The bookcase was pushed haphazardly aside, revealing the dark, flooded tunnel. 

"Argonians can breathe in water," Marise said. 

"I volunteer!" Brand-Shei shouted, approaching the tunnel. 

"Brand-Shei… you're a Dunmer," Talen-Jei groaned. 

Brand-Shei grumbled and looked at his hands. They looked at Talen-Jei. 

"Well don't look at me!" Talen-Jei exclaimed. "I'm not going in there. Who knows what else in there, besides a Dunmer who was too stupid to plan for water." 

Madesi stepped forward and took the waterbreathing potions for Teldryn from Marise. "That mer risked his life for one of our own when he pulled those guards off you, Talen-Jei. I'll go," he said. 

"Are you sure?" Brand-Shei asked, looking worriedly at his dear friend. 

"Of course I'm sure," Madesi insisted. He took off his shirt and dove headfirst into the waters. 

Everyone milled around the tunnel entrance, waiting anxiously for their friend to return with Teldryn. No one really knew Teldryn all that much, but they loved Tabethys, and Tabethys clearly cared for Teldryn, so they cared for him, too, by extension. 

The sounds of the wind pushing the wet leaves of the trees outside mixed with the gentle splashing sound the water from the tunnel made as it leaked out slowly. It was still rising. Brand-Shei stepped closer to the water filled tunnel, looking intently, ready and waiting with the healing potion. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting. No one said anything. It was like there was a spell over them, and all they could do was just stand there until the next event happened. 

All of a sudden, Madesi burst out of the water dragging a waterlogged, half-drowned Dunmer with him. Everyone gasped. Normally, Teldryn's face was concealed behind his chitin helm and scarf, but when Madesi brought him out of the water, his face was uncovered. He had sharp Dunmeri features, and facial tattoos accenting his high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted brow ridges. Marise reached out and gently touched the unconscious mer's face. He was handsome, more so than she had thought he would be. 

"I was going to give him the Waterbreathing potions, but when I got there, he was out," Madesi huffed. "He's heavier than he looks." Madesi dropped the potions he'd been holding to the ground and rested with his hands on his knees. 

Mjoll hoisted Teldryn over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and ran to the temple, the rest of the people trailing behind her. She burst through the doors, and Maramal instantly came forward. He had finished healing Tabethys, who still lay in the pew, resting, with Romlyn right next to him. With the assistance of Maramal, Mjoll lay Teldryn down in the pew across the aisle from Tabethys. 

"He was like that when I found him," Madesi explained. The priest nodded, already working on weaving an elaborate healing spell above Teldryn. Tabethys leaned over the armrest and stared longingly at Teldryn. Marise wondered if something had happened between them in that tunnel. She looked at Romlyn and saw how he was looking at Tabethys. 

"Is he gonna be okay?" Tabethys asked, his voice hoarse. 

Maramal ignored him and concentrated on the task at hand. 

"Lay back. You should sleep," Romlyn said, placing his hand gently on Tabethys's chest. 

"Not until I know he's going to be okay," Tabethys insisted, pushing past Romlyn. 

Everyone watched intently as the priest continued to heal Teldryn. Would he wake up? Or was he too far gone? 

For what felt like hours, the priest of Mara sang and chanted, mixed healing potions into salves and applied them to Teldryn's face and chest, and used his Restoration magic to heal the mer. Droplets of sweat began to form on Maramal's face. 

"Maramal," the acolyte said, "I think it's time we let nature take its course." She placed her hands on the priest's shoulders, pulling him gently. 

"No!" Maramal barked. "I can feel him in there, his soul. It's not too late!" He pushed the acolyte away and pressed on Teldryn's chest, squeezed his eyes shut, continued chanting prayers of healing and salvation. 

Tabethys stared unblinking, watering eyes threatening to overflow. He clenched Romlyn's hand, hard. He didn't notice he was chanting along with Maramal.

Teldryn's eyes tensed, and a mighty cough escaped his lungs. 

Everyone breathed out all at once. Maramal fell back from the pew and collapsed into the arms of his acolyte. 

"Teldryn, you're okay!" Tabethys cried, dragging himself from his pew to sit next to the mer. 

Teldryn coughed some more in response, but he opened his eyes and looked at Tabethys. 

"I thought… I thought you were…" Tabethys choked. 

Teldryn shook his head. "I knew you would come back for me," he rasped. 

"Okay, enough. Let him rest," Maramal grumped, waving everyone out of the room. 

Tabethys stood, wiping tears from his eyes, and Romlyn put his arm around him, leading him out of the temple. Marise, Mjoll, Talen-Jei, Brand-Shei, and Madesi followed them. 

They continued around the boardwalk to The Bee and Barb, where they took their usual table in the back. The mood was somber. Even though everyone was okay, they almost weren't. They stared at their table in silence, aware of the emptiness. If Keerava had been there, their cups and plates would have been filled. But she wasn't. And they weren't. Shamelessly, Talen-Jei began to weep.

_______________

Romlyn needed to take his mind off things. With Tabethys still recuperating from almost drowning, and Teldryn making eyes at Tabethys, he was feeling like a mead bottle left with its cork in too long: ready to explode. It was early morning in Riften--the sun had yet to rise--and the past few days had left him feeling weak. He hadn't slept well; there was too much to think about. He sat alone in his little hole under the city. Normally, he didn't mind the dark, small, vaguely smelly quarters, but today, all he could think about was how nice it would be to live somewhere else. He didn't want to leave Riften--he'd lived there all his life and couldn't imagine living anywhere else; he just wanted a more… spacious and well-lit home. 

He got up out of his small bed, back cracking as he shifted for the first time in a few hours. "Ugh, I'm too young for my back to hurt like this," he groaned. He ran his hands through his long blond hair and stood up. The first thing he wanted was food. He felt a pang in his stomach. Normally, he would go and chat with Keerava over some seared slaughterfish, but now… he'd never get the chance to do that again. He sank back down onto his bed, head in his hands. Alone, he wasn't afraid to show how upset he was over the loss of a dear friend. Around everyone else, especially Talen-Jei, he felt the need to be strong, to support his fellow comrades. But who would support him? 

The people looked to him as some sort of leader. Why this was, Romlyn couldn't fathom. Maybe it was because he wasn't afraid to stand up to Maven. But neither was Mjoll. She was a leader among the people, no doubt about that, but over the last couple of days since the riot, people had come to _him_ for advice, guidance, and leadership. Even the Dragonborn was asking him for information. Okay, that last one made a little bit of sense; Romlyn had lived in Riften far longer than Tabethys. 

After he was all cried out, he stood, head swimming behind swollen eyes. He really needed something to eat. So, he approached his cupboards. Slim pickings, as usual. 

It wasn't just that he couldn't cook; food was hard to come by in Riften. Rumor was that Maven squeezed the influx of food to the city so she could control them better. Of course, that was just a rumor. Romlyn grabbed a piece of slightly stale bread and sat down on the rickety old chair by the fire, eating slowly, letting his thoughts ruminate. 

If he was going to be a leader of the Riften People's Union, he was going to do it _his_ way. There would be no moral superiority, like Mjoll or Maramal had, no heavy handed orders like the Jarl, and no ruling by fear like Maven and the Thieves Guild. He was going to do it the Dreth way. 

On finishing the bread, Romlyn stood and left his humble home, sneering at the stench of the canal. The moons, Masser and Secunda, were out, both of them full. Romlyn paused to gaze in wonder at their beauty. Ever since he was very small, the sight of the stars and moons had filled him with amazement. Every other mer, beast, or man who had ever lived or ever would live gazed upon these same moons and stars that he was observing now. The feeling was overwhelming. It made his problems and worries seem small in comparison, yet at the same time, important. 

The fury and frustration that had been keeping him up night quelled, but only a little bit. He still felt the need to get some of his frustrations out. Time for a tried and true method he had been using since he was a teenager: graffiti. A mischievous grin spread across his face as the thrill of the action grew in his mind. 

He started on the stone wall under the city. The guards never patrolled down there, and people would certainly see it. He brought to life a flame in his palm, his skin warming from the magicka. The sensation sent a chill down his spine. Expertly, as though he'd had decades of practice at this, he wrote in big, round, arching letters: _THE ONLY DANGEROUS MINORITY IS THE RICH_. His flames scorched the stone wall, leaving a blackened imprint on it. He went over it with a basic Alteration spell to make the ash writing harder to scrub off. It would be there for weeks at least. He scrawled his personal tag at the bottom of the piece, then stood back to admire his work. It was good, but it wasn't enough. 

If he wanted to really make a statement, he'd have to go to the upper level of the city. But that brought challenges. The guards, for one, would make no hesitation in locking up a Dunmer for using fire, even if said Dunmer wasn't harming anyone or damaging public property. In fact, Romlyn himself had done a few weeks time for simply warming himself with fire magicka on a cold day. So outright using fire magicka to graffiti would certainly be dealt with harshly. He would have to be careful. 

Luckily, living in Riften all his life had gifted him with a few tricks, namely sneaking. Romlyn crouched and crept up the stairs, his enchanted boots muffling his sounds. Even without the enchantment, his boots were soft and well-worn, so they wouldn't have made much noise anyways, but with the enchantment, he moved with perfect silence. As long as he could avoid a guard's line of sight, he would be free to graffiti as he wanted. 

He stalked a guard who paced lazily around the city center. The guards had been no more or less anxious than usual since the riot, but they were quicker to use force. Edda, the beggar who usually sat in the market, had been beaten once already for taking a tomato that had fallen on the ground. Romlyn gritted his teeth at the memory. The guard turned the corner, and Romlyn sped up to stay out of her line of sight. He approached a gate and picked the lock expertly, scampering down the alley into the back of Riften. Down the back alley was a statue of Talos. He stood tall and strong, head slightly bowed, face contemplative over his greatsword. There were offerings of flowers and mead at his feet. The priests of Talos weren't up yet, so the coast was clear. 

Romlyn stood and walked nonchalantly down the alley, Azura's sacred hours of dawn bathing the city in faint purple light. He looked around one last time, ensuring there was no one there (there wasn't), then he took a flame in his hands and drew the symbol for the Rift, two swords crossed over each other, and next to it, in his signature script, wrote: 

_THE SYSTEM WAS NEVER BROKEN, IT WAS BUILT THIS WAY_

Then he drew Maven Black-Briar's face, but with X's for eyes. As he painted with fire and Alteration magic, he was like a dancer, leaping and crouching, jumping and waving his arms. His dance was for no audience though; the only onlookers were the birds in the trees who watched as the Dunmer fire graffiti artist scrawled his musings on the wall. The flames scorched the wall, darker in spots where he burned it brighter, lighter in spots where he burned only a candle-sized flame. 

When he was done, he stepped back to view a large, beautiful portrait of Maven. Her likeness in ash was stunning, and the jarring absence of eyes drew the attention to the words that surrounded her head. Reading them led the artist's gaze to the crest of Riften. The swords he had drawn appeared rusted, dilapidated. On the tapestries decorating the Jarl's Keep and the guards' shields, the swords were like new, shining and brilliant. But Romlyn didn't believe that fit the perspective of Riften he and his fellow workers had. He hoped his vision would be made clear to the viewers who would undoubtedly pass by this work of art when the sun had risen. 

"You there!" a guard shouted. 

Romlyn quickly sprinted down the alley, into the graveyard. He heard the clinking of the guard's armor coming closer. Panic rose in his chest. Ever since the riot, the guards had been more violent than usual against any suspected member of the Riften People's Union. It was no secret that Romlyn was a member, so if that guard caught him… Romlyn shuddered to think what would happen. He ran into a small building, a crypt, that held a coffin. 

"I know you're in here somewhere, thief! Come out with your hands up!" the guard ordered. 

Shit, shit, shit. Romlyn backed up against the coffin and crouched, trying to squeeze himself into a shadow. He hit his elbow on the front of the coffin, and suddenly the whole thing started to move back! The guard was getting closer. Romlyn jumped into the empty space where the coffin had been. There was a ring on a chain, and assuming it would close the secret entrance, Romlyn pulled it. He assumed correctly, and the coffin slid back over the gap, encasing Romlyn in total darkness. 

"Huh," the guard huffed. "Must have just been my imagination." The guard's muffled footsteps faded as she walked away. 

Romlyn sat down on the stone steps, breathing heavily. His anxiety threatened to overwhelm him; he could feel the familiar cold of it creeping up his spine, wrapping around his heart and lungs, making it difficult to breathe. 

"It's okay, it's okay," Romlyn whispered to himself. He held his left hand in his right and dug his nails into his skin hard enough to feel it but not hard enough to break the skin. The darkness of the room was overpowering, and suddenly, Romlyn felt very small and very alone. 

"What was that?" he heard someone whisper. It sounded like it was coming from the other end of the tunnel. Romlyn stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. 

As his eyes began to adjust to the dim light from the few torches in the next room, he saw a man wearing leather armor with an excessive number of buckles approach. The man was short for a human, but still taller than Romlyn, and he was bald. 

"Well, well," the man said. "Boys! Someone stumbled upon our entrance in the graveyard." 

Two other men and a woman appeared, among them, Brynjolf. Everyone knew Brynjolf was in the Thieves Guild; he regularly peddled knock off products, like "amethysts" that were really rocks painted purple or "genuine" Falmer blood elixir. 

"I can just leave," Romlyn pleaded. "I won't tell anyone!" 

"No, no," the woman said. She was slender and blond, a human as well. She had a mean look in her eye, eager almost. Eager for what? "We can't let you leave now." 

Romlyn lurched back, flinging himself to the ring-and-chain by the secret door like a ragdoll. He tried to grab it, pull it down, thinking that maybe if he could just run fast enough, he could get out like none of this had ever happened. 

Brynjolf grabbed the mer by his shoulder and yanked him back. "Not so fast, little elf," he snarled. He looked over his shoulder, talking to the bald man. "So Delvin, what should we do with this little sneak thief?" 

The shorter man--Delvin--walked up and looked at Romlyn, his eyes squinted and a slight frown crossing his face. "Don't think we don't know it was you who started that fire," he said. "Maven has been quite generous to the Guild, and I think she would appreciate it if we repaid her generosity by handing you over to her." 

Romlyn felt the blood leave his face. She was alive? "No, please. Anything but that!" 

"Anything?" Delvin asked inquisitively. He chuckled. "Oh no, I don't think you're prepared for what that might entail." He circled Romlyn like a predator enjoying the last moments before killing its prey. 

"What if we kept him here," the woman said, "see what knowledge we can get out of him about that riot." 

"Bah!" Delvin exclaimed, waving her off. "No one cares about that riot. You think it will impress Maven or Mercer Frey that we could find out, _'oh, the townspeople hate Maven?'_ " He laughed. "That's a well known fact already!" 

The woman gritted her teeth. "No, you oaf. _That_ may be, but they've never been bold enough to outright attack her." 

"She made a foolish error killing that lizard in the public square and then letting her man get away with it. People just wanted vengeance. There's nothing else to it," Delvin insisted. 

Romlyn watched them go back and forth, still standing by the chain with Brynjolf's hand on his shoulder-- Brynjolf who was uncharacteristically quiet. 

"Hey, Brynjolf," Romlyn whispered. 

Brynjolf looked down at him. 

"Hey, man. C'mon, just let me get out of here. Quick while they're distracted!" Romlyn hissed. 

Brynjolf said nothing and looked back up, watching with glazed eyes while the blond Nord and the bald man argued about the riot. Romlyn looked around, searching for anything that might help him weasel his way out of this mess. Maybe he would get lucky and Tabethys would come to his rescue. No-- Tabethys was still recovering from drowning, and besides, no one even knew he was down here. He was completely at the mercy of the Thieves Guild. 

"Fine!" the man shouted, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Keep him! Interrogate him to your heart's desire! But when he confirms everything I've been telling you, we're sending him to Maven. You have three days, not a moment longer." 

Brynjolf chuckled. "Our little Vex's gone and found herself a mission!" 

"I guess she has, but that don't mean I gotta like it," Delvin said. 

Brynjolf released his heavy handed grasp from Romlyn's shoulder, and Vex grabbed him and herded him through an interconnected weave of tunnels. They were dizzying; there was no way Romlyn could remember all the different twists and turns. Suddenly, they were in a big cavern. There were quite a few people in there, all milling around on a platform by some suspicious looking water. There were tables and a bar. The bartender watched as Vex and Romlyn passed. She led him through the bar and into another series of tunnels. 

A beggar ran up to Vex, baring her teeth and growling. "Out of my way!" Vex snarled. The beggar wandered off, drinking something Romlyn could only assume was skooma. Vex shoved Romlyn into a small, damp room and slammed a grated iron cage door behind him. She locked the cage door and put the key in a hidden pocket in her armor. 

"What is this?" Romlyn asked, hands on the bars. "Don't just leave me here!" 

"You're lucky I'm letting you keep your clothes," she stated. "You can't pick that lock, so don't even bother trying. Even if you got out, those skooma addled freaks we passed on our way in would eat you alive. You're safer in there." 

Romlyn winced. Despite living his whole life in Riften, he'd only ever been in the Ratway once. He was a child eager to escape his troubled home. He'd heard about the Thieves Guild and wanted to join. So one night when his mother was being particularly difficult thanks to her own skooma addiction, he left. He wandered the streets of Riften, feeling the cool rebellion of being out after dark. He could still remember the way his skin tingled with excitement. The Ratway was dark and foul, but going there was against the rules, and so naturally, it was all he wanted to do. He snuck in and wandered around, but when he came upon a group of adults fighting each other, he got scared and ran away. The whole adventure lasted less than an hour, but it was enough to sate his curiosity about the Ratway for good. 

Vex pulled up a chair and sat outside his cell. "Talk," she commanded, crossing her arms. 

"Talk? About what?" Romlyn turned away from her, checking out his cell. There was a bedroll on the floor, but it was soiled. There was a chair in the corner with some sort of fungus or lichen forming on the legs. The walls were grimy from decades or perhaps centuries of moisture-dwelling funguses and moss growing, living, and dying on them. Even the metal bars of the door were slimy. He wiped his hands on his pants legs and turned back to Vex. 

"The riot. I know you know something about it," she said coolly. 

Romlyn shrugged. "I don't know anything." 

"Anything at all? You were there, weren't you?" 

"Was I?" Romlyn countered. "I can't seem to remember anything about that day." 

Vex bared her teeth at him. "If you don't tell me everything you know, you'll regret it. I can make these three days _very_ painful for you." 

Romlyn raised an eyebrow. "I respond better to honey than threats." 

"Oh trust me," Vex said, laughing loudly. "This is no threat." She took out a dagger and started fiddling with it. "Tell me who is in your group. What do you want?" 

Romlyn huffed, but didn't say anything. 

"Oh so it's like that?" she said. "Fine." She got up out of her chair and unlocked the door, entering the cage. She towered over Romlyn, looking down on him. She grabbed his tunic and pulled him up, slammed him against the wall and pressed her dagger to his throat. "I said. Talk." 

The cool metal of the knife grazed Romlyn's throat, and he breathed shallowly to avoid nicking himself on it. He wiggled his feet, trying to reach the floor, but the cursed Nord was tall, and she'd lifted the short Dunmer up so that he couldn't escape. 

Vex pressed the knife harder into his skin, drawing blood. 

"Ah!" Romlyn gasped. He didn't say anything. 

Vex took the knife off his neck and sneered at him. She wound back her free hand into a first and punched Romlyn in the face, _hard._

Romlyn cried out at the impact. His nose stung and tingled from the blow, and the metallic taste of blood coated his tongue. 

"Fuck you," he spat, blood splattering on her face and armor. 

She kneed him in the groin and dropped him on the ground, where he crumpled. Shooting pains spread from his groin through to the backs of his knees and eyes. Impact after impact landed on him. His side, his back. He covered his face with his arms and brought his knees up to his chest, trying to protect himself from the assault. 

The ground beneath him was cold, and he could hear Vex laughing over the sound of her foot connecting with his side. Every kick sent another wave of pain through his body, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of anything but the pain. 

Visions of his mother flashed before his eyes and he yelped in surprise. Focusing on the blows from Vex was better than that, so that's what he did. 

He opened his eyes and looked between his splayed fingers at his captor. She had a look of fierce determination in her eyes as she pummeled the Dunmer. Every kick landed with purpose, and Romlyn winced. Finally, she let up. 

"You tell me what I want to know, or I'll start in again." She glowered down at him, breathing heavily as if she had been working out, not beating him. 

"I'm not telling you shit," Romlyn spat hoarsely. 

She grinned and kicked him hard right in the face. The world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've got plenty more where that came from.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romlyn Dreth is losing his will to carry on, Tabethys is unsure how he'll ever find his missing friend, and Maven has plans for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: torture

Tabethys approached Romlyn's door. He wanted to ask about any people Romlyn may have seen in the meadery when he used to work there; it was lunchtime, too, so maybe they could talk over a meal. 

The city below Riften was constantly damp from the canal, and it didn't smell very pleasant since the canal waters were unused, stagnant. Tabethys didn't know how Romlyn could stand to live down here. As he walked the boardwalk, he saw some graffiti on the wall. 

"The only dangerous minority is the rich," Tabethys read out loud. He chuckled. It wasn't something he'd considered before, but the more he thought about it, the more truth in it he found. Nords always talked about how dangerous the Dunmer were; Dunmer talked about how dangerous the Argonians were. Humans and elves alike thought Orcs were dangerous. But really, the rich made the world dangerous for everyone, subjugating the working classes, relegating them to unsafe parts of the city to live in, refusing to pay them enough to keep themselves healthy, and turning the races against each other to start wars to distract them from the power of the wealthy. It was a short phrase, but damn if it wasn't succinct. 

Tabethys reached Romlyn's house and knocked on the black metal door. "Romlyn, are you in there?" he called. No answer. He pressed his ear to the door to see if he could hear anything, but there was nothing. He went up the stairs by Romlyn's door and looked around. Maybe Romlyn was in the market circle. He walked into the market, the bustling of the people still a little jarring to him. 

Even though he'd been in Riften for a little over a week now, he still wasn't used to all the people. It was a struggle to remember everyone's names. There were only a few people in Rorikstead, and he didn't visit it all that much growing up. Most of his life had been lived in near solitude. It was strange to think of people finding joy in the company of each other, but when he looked around and saw how happily everyone engaged with each other, or even when they squabbled, he could tell how fulfilled they were. He felt out of place in their community, like an intruder or an outsider. An interloper. 

"Hey Tabethys!" Marise cheerfully greeted him. 

Tabethys waved nervously. "Have you seen Romlyn?" 

"Hm," Marise frowned. "Come to think of it, I haven't. Where have you looked?" 

"His house. I just came from the Bee and Barb, so he's not there." 

Marise shrugged. "You could check the bunkhouse. Sometimes a few of the guys go there to admire the women." 

Tabethys was taken aback. The bunkhouse? He had thought there was something between them, but if he had thought wrong… 

"Not that Romlyn has any use for beautiful women!" Marise added, chuckling. 

Tabethys gave a half-hearted laugh and stepped towards the bunkhouse. 

"Hey, thanks again for the ice wraith teeth," Marise said as Tabethys walked off. "We're one of the same kind, you and I. I'm glad we met." 

A warm feeling crept up in his heart. "Oh you're too kind," he said, trying not to blush. He trotted off to the bunkhouse, but stopped when he reached the door. The blond Nord woman who ran the bunkhouse's words echoed in his mind:  _ stay out of the bunkhouse, it's not for you _ , she'd said. Well, he wasn't going in to take part in the activities there. He just wanted to find Romlyn. He  _ hoped  _ Romlyn wasn't in there. 

He took a deep breath and opened the door. The bunkhouse was… just a normal bunkhouse. Tythis and a Bosmer were seated at a table on the left, and the bar across from the door was unmanned. 

"Tabethys!" Tythis greeted, waving him over. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" 

Tabethys approached the table, and the Bosmer turned to face him. It was the same Bosmer he'd spoken to about Maven Black-Briar the morning of the riot. What was his name? 

"Oh, nothing really. I'm just looking for Romlyn. Have either of you seen him?" Tabethys asked. 

"Hm, I haven't," Tythis said. "Ungrien, have you?" 

_ Ungrien! _ That was his name! 

Ungrien shook his head. "No. But I did see some pretty slanderous graffiti behind the Temple of Mara this morning. It had Romlyn's tag on it." 

" _ Romlyn _ did that?!" Tabethys gasped. "I saw the one below the city and thought it was really cool." 

"Oh yeah," Ungrien said. "He's been doing graffiti long as I can remember. Normally, the guards cover it up right away, but they've been more focused on messing with people than city upkeep, I guess." 

Tabethys's gaze drifted off as he remembered how the graffiti he saw earlier had made him feel. Romlyn had made that. He brought those feelings into the world for Tabethys. "You said it was behind the Temple?" Tabethys asked. 

"Yeah," Ungrien said. 

"Okay, thanks." Tabethys turned on his heel and swiftly left the bunkhouse. He jogged down the planked path onto the cobblestone and went around the big house just by the front gate. The alley was quiet; only a single priest of Talos walked its path. She bowed her head to Tabethys as he passed by, no doubt more out of politeness than reverence. He walked briskly, and awe overtook him when he saw the graffiti on the wall. It was clearly a portrait of Maven Black-Briar, Tabethys knew, despite only seeing her from a distance. Words circled her head leading to the symbol of Riften, the crossed swords. The swooping letters and dynamic shading were mesmerizing. Tabethys stood there, gawking at the piece, absorbing every last detail of it. Romlyn Dreth had made this. Truly, he was an artist. 

But where had he gone? Surely, he wouldn't have just  _ left  _ Riften. But maybe… Maybe the pressure of his position in the union had grown to be too much, and he needed a change. Tabethys sighed. He turned and walked away from the mural, wondering what he would do now. 

Tabethys wandered Riften, avoiding the eyes of the people in town. He eyed the beautiful necklaces in Madesi's stall. 

"Hey, Tabethys, care for some fine Argonian craftsmanship? A perfect gift for a lover," the Argonian said. Tabethys gave him a weak smile and moved on. A lover. Who was Madesi even talking about? 

The cobblestone ground blurred as tears filled Tabethys's eyes. Had Romlyn really abandoned him? He wiped his eyes roughly and kept walking. 

A guard bumped him in the back with his axe handle. "Keep moving,  _ elf _ ," he shouted. 

Tabethys resisted the urge to turn around and send the guard flying with the power of his Dragon shout. That would only cause more trouble. But damn, was imagining it fun. Tabethys would turn around, his glance menacing; the guard would step forward, preparing for a fight, but when Tabethys let loose his Dragon voice,  _ "FUS… RO DAH!" _ the guard would be totally unprepared and be sent flying across Riften like a ragdoll. Of course, if he did that, he would not doubt be arrested immediately and for an indefinite amount of time. Still, though, it was tempting. 

"Tabethys," a woman said. Tabethys looked up abruptly. It was Marise. "Did you find him?" There was a hint of worry in her voice, and her red eyes were tense with emotion. 

Tabethys shook his head. "No. I did see a mural he graffitied on the wall behind the Temple, though." 

Marise frowned. "It's not unlike him to just disappear." 

"Maybe he finally got tired of Riften and decided to leave," Tabethys sighed. "I should probably be on my way, too. I'll be honest, I'm not a settling-down type. Being here is starting to get…" Tabethys let his voice trail off. He didn't want to offend Marise. 

"I'm telling you, this  _ isn't _ like him," Marise insisted. "I know him better than anyone, certainly better than you. He wouldn't just disappear. Riften is his home. He has a vision for this place, and he wouldn't just abandon everyone right in the thick of it. I fear he may be in danger." 

Tabethys scratched his forehead. "I'm sure you know him well, but you don't know the pressure of being a 'hero.' Some people just… crack under the pressure of it. The expectations are a lot to live with." Tabethys sighed. "Besides, I fear I may have had something to do with it." 

Marise raised an eyebrow at the mer. "What do you mean?" 

"I believe he has feelings for me," Tabethys stated. "I didn't… reciprocate. Not that I don't like him, but I just--well, I have a lot going on right now. I think he may have misinterpreted my feelings towards Teldryn and left." 

Marise balked at that and then started laughing. When Tabethys looked at her with a puzzled expression, her laughter choked to a halt. "By the Three, you're serious, aren't you?" 

Tabethys crossed his arms. 

"That is quite possibly the most selfish thing I've ever heard from someone who wasn't a Black-Briar," Marise said. Now it was Tabethys's turn to balk. Marise continued, "A man goes missing, and you assume it has something to do with you? Tabethys, Romlyn is a big boy. He knows how to deal with feelings, unlike you, it would seem. You want my advice? Get your head out of your ass!" 

Tabethys pursed his lips. "Okay, maybe my perspective is a bit one-sided. I just didn't want him to think I didn't care about him." 

"If you care about him, prove it and  _ find  _ him," Marise stated. With that, she turned back to her food cart, pitching her food as "fresh as the day it was collected." 

_______________

Romlyn awoke slowly, the world around him spinning. It was dark, so dark. There was a faint light coming from a different room, and it flickered wildly, causing the shadows to move as if they were alive. He looked down at himself. He was naked except for a dirty cloth covering his privates, and his ankles were shackled to a wall. He looked up, and saw his wrists were shackled to the wall overhead. It was cold in this room, and Romlyn's skin prickled, every hair on his body standing up in an attempt to warm himself. He tried to conjure a flame in his palm, but it sputtered out. There was a faint purple glow on the shackles. Magicka repellent enchantment. Damn. 

"My, my," a shrill voice said, "look who's awake." A blond figure entered the room; it was Vex. She held a long knife in her hand, gently tilting it so that it glinted in the faint firelight. 

"What are you doing?" Romlyn asked, sounding much more afraid than he intended to. He didn't want her to know he was afraid. Fear was a weakness, and clearly, she intended to exploit it. 

"I'm going to make you talk. You have information. I want it. I always get what I want," Vex said. She stepped closer to him and pressed the knife up against the skin of his chest. Romlyn shivered, but he wasn't sure if he was shivering from the cold metal of the knife or fear. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way." 

Romlyn squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain he knew was coming. 

"The hard way it is then." 

She broke the skin of Romlyn's chest and dragged the knife down, down, the the soft flesh of his stomach. A line of red bubbled out from the gash, overflowing down his gray, ashen skin. He cried out with pain and bit his lip to stifle his cry. Heat from the wound radiated out into his body, and the open air of the Ratway stung the gash. It pulsed, and blood oozed out. Vex laughed and held the knife up to Romlyn's view. 

"You're bleeding like a skeever!" she cackled. 

Against his will, tears began to form in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, but the tears ran down his face anyways, making streaks in the dirt on his face. 

"There's an easy way to end this. Just tell me what I want to know," Vex coaxed. 

"Never!" Romlyn hissed through gritted teeth. He opened his eyes stared down at Vex, mustering up every last bit of courage he possibly could. "My friends are looking for me, and when they find you, you'll regret this." 

Vex sputtered and then laughed loudly, throwing her head back and gripping her stomach. "Oh wow," she wheezed, "I needed that. You don't seem to understand, Romlyn. No one is coming for you. No one has even noticed that you're not there. And if anyone does manage to weasel their way in here, I'll do worse to them than I'm doing to you now. So if you cared at all about your friends, you'd wish they would never find you." 

"No, Tabethys can kick your ass. When he finds me down here and sees what you've done to me he'll--" 

"Romlyn,  _ Romlyn _ . Tabethys thinks you've left Riften! One of my men overheard him talking to his mercenary saying you were too weak to do the job and cracked under pressure and left." Vex clicked her tongue. "Such a sad story, really: blossoming leader disappears, and everyone thinks he left because the pressure was too great. And all along, you've been here. Right under their noses." 

Romlyn gaped at her, his head swimming. He couldn't believe Tabethys wasn't looking for him. He wouldn't give up on Romlyn that easily, would he? 

"Now," Vex said, shattering Romlyn's thoughts, "tell me what I want to know." 

Romlyn pressed his lips shut and stared at Vex defiantly. She laughed and got out her dagger again. "Fine, have it your way." 

_______________

Tabethys stood at the front of The Bee and Barb, the members of the Riften People's Union looking to him.

"Has anyone found anything, anything at all, that could lead us to Romlyn?" he asked. 

Mjoll looked down at her hands. In the days since Romlyn had disappeared, the investigation into Maven Black-Briar had taken a back seat. The trail was by no means cold; the tunnels still had yet to be explored fully, and with the news from Daron, the former guard, that Jarl Laila was upset about the contents of Black-Briar mead, there was plenty to go on. 

But there was no time to dwell on the Black-Briars when Romlyn was missing without a trace. 

Various "no's" were heard throughout The Bee and Barb, and Tabethys frowned in concentration. 

"There has to be something!" he shouted. He was feeling desperate. Everyone knew that if a person went missing and wasn't found in the first two days, they were most likely dead. With Romlyn's ties to the community and his position in the Union, Tabethys just knew he was in danger. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought otherwise. 

Teldryn stepped up and put his hand on Tabethys's shoulder. "We'll find him." 

Tabethys pushed Teldryn's hand off and stormed out of the inn. If those people weren't going to help him look, he would just do it himself. The wooden planks blurred beneath him, and he felt wetness dripping down his face. He wiped his tears furiously. What good would crying do? Tabethys stomped down the path into the alley where Romlyn had last been. He approached the mural and sat down in front of it. Even though it had been three days since Romlyn had last been here, just knowing he had been there at all soothed Tabethys. He reached up and touched the enchanted ash tenderly, reverently. 

"I'm going to find you, Romlyn," he whispered. 

He remembered how worried Romlyn had looked when he had gone into that tunnel in the Black-Briar manor. His face had pinched up and his blond eyebrows had arched. He was the first one to find Tabethys when he had emerged from the flooded depths, and he had stayed by Tabethys for the duration of his recovery. He had held Tabethys's hair back when he vomited water, brought him healing potions, made him food, held his hand. Tabethys cried shamelessly now, the tears drenching his scarf. Of course the moment he realizes he has feelings for someone else, that someone is currently missing and in untold danger. Tabethys sputtered, laughing through his tears at his plight. 

He took one last look at the mural. The confident ash paint strokes; the clear vision of the painter. Tabethys let the feeling of pride, confidence, and love wash over him, turn his fear into motivation, and stood. 

"No lollygagging," a guard barked, passing by Tabethys. 

Wait a minute… "Guard!" he shouted, jogging to catch up. 

The guard turned, somehow portraying clear apprehension despite the mask covering his face. "Yes?" 

"Do you walk this route every day?" 

The guard crossed his arms. "I do. Midnight to midday. Why?" 

"Did you see who did this painting?" Tabethys gestured to the mural. 

The guard scoffed. "Aye, I did. But the little weasel ran off before I could catch them." 

"Did you see which way they went?" Tabethys forced his voice to remain steady despite the excitement swelling in his chest. 

The guard pointed to the graveyard. "I thought I heard something over in the graveyard, but when I got there, there was nothing. I figured it was magic. Those damn elves are always using magic to get away with crimes." 

Tabethys followed the guard's gesture to the graveyard. A low fog lay over the tombstones, several of which were cracked and had moss creeping up the sides of them. There was a low-lying building emerging from the fog, and it was dark inside. That would be the perfect place to hide if the guards were coming. 

"Thanks," Tabethys mumbled to the guard, then he wandered off towards the graveyard. The guard continued shuffling down his path, ignoring Tabethys. 

As Tabethys approached the graveyard, he saw that the building was a crypt. There was a stone coffin inside, but nowhere a person could really fit to hide. Romlyn may have been short, but he was not the thinnest, so he definitely wouldn't have been able to squeeze into any of the small crevices in the crypt. Tabethys doubted even a child could fit into them. So where did he go? 

"Tabethys?" he heard someone call in the distance. "Tabethys, are you okay?" It was Teldryn. 

Tabethys huffed. "I'm over here!" he called back. 

Teldryn approached, his bug-eyed goggles reflecting the world around him. "Why are you crouching by this coffin?" 

Tabethys stood. "I got a lead from the guard that patrols this area. He said Romlyn ran this way, into the crypt, and then disappeared." 

"Disappeared?" 

"Yeah." 

"Did he actually  _ see  _ Romlyn? Maybe he got confused." 

Tabethys crossed his arms. "I don't think so. The guard comes down from the gate, so if Romlyn saw him, he'd have run this way. The crypt is the first dark place on the path." 

"Well, why wouldn't he just run down the stairs?" Teldryn argued, gesturing past the statue of Talos to the stairs on the other side of the Orphanage. "His house is right down there anyways. A guard being confused isn't really a lead. And besides, there's nowhere in here to hide." 

Tabethys looked down at the coffin. "I guess you're right," he said glumly. "But still. I have a feeling." 

Teldryn cocked his head. "I know you want to find him. Everyone does. And we will. But wasting time on a wild goose chase isn't going to help. You have to keep your wits about you, Tabs." His voice was oozing in pity. 

"I don't need your condescension," Tabethys grumbled. "How about you just go? I'll find him myself!" 

"You want to go ahead without me?" Teldryn asked, shocked. "After all the times I've saved your ass?" 

"As I recall, it's mostly been  _ me _ saving  _ you _ ," Tabethys shot back, jabbing a finger in Teldryn's direction. 

Teldryn recoiled. "Tabethys, don't push me away." 

"You're not my  _ friend _ . You're my  _ employee _ . I hired you to protect me. If I'm always the one saving you, then what are you worth to me, really?" Tabethys snapped. 

"You're not being logical, Tabethys. If you go after Romlyn and find yourself in danger, who knows what could happen!" Teldryn shouted. 

Tabethys leaned back, eyes set firm. "If you want to come with me, then don't question my judgement." 

"Pah!" Teldryn scoffed. "If your judgment was sound, then it could hold up to questioning." 

Tabethys squinted his eyes at Teldryn. Finally, he released his breath and slumped his shoulders. He laughed, quietly at first, but then it crescendoed into a guffaw. Teldryn leaned back from the mer and looked around to make sure no guards were around. 

"Uh, Tabethys?" Teldryn asked hesitantly. 

"I think I'm going crazy," Tabethys said, breathless, after a moment more of laughter. He wiped away some tears. 

Teldryn put his arm around Tabethys and patted him gently. "I know. It's okay." 

Teldryn guided Tabethys away from the graveyard and led him back through town to The Bee and Barb. The crowd had dissipated, and the inn was mostly empty. Talen-Jei was slumped over the bar on a stool; he'd likely been there since the previous night. Teldryn opened the door to the room Tabethys had rented. Gently, he pushed Tabethys onto the bed, sitting him up right. 

"When was the last time you bathed or changed your clothes?" Teldryn asked. He took off his helmet and goggles and set them on a table in the corner of the room. 

Tabethys shrugged. He stared off at the wall, eyes unfocused. Unfeeling. Emotions had come and gone, leaving nothing but a hollow husk. 

Slowly, Teldryn peeled Tabethys's shirt off. Body odor wafted off him, and Teldryn suppressed a cough. He left the room for a moment--Tabethys couldn't tell how long--and returned with a bucket, a small bowl of crushed soaproot, and a rag. Teldryn dipped the rag into the bucket and rubbed some of the crushed soaproot onto it until it sudsed, then he gingerly wiped the rag onto Tabethys's back. It was warm, and the rag had a pleasant scratchiness to it. Teldryn scrubbed, washing away the dirt and grime of the last few days. Tabethys had been going out into the forest beyond the wall every day from dawn until dusk, looking for any sign at all that Romlyn had been taken out of the city. It showed. As Teldryn scrubbed, Tabethys's back slowly became several shades lighter. 

Tabethys closed his eyes and let himself drift back into his body with the gentle sensation of his friend scrubbing his grime away. Distantly, he felt some deep sense of dread and shame, but he was far too lost to really care at the moment. It was more of a nagging thought in the back of his mind:  _ He's looking at you! He sees your scars, your nakedness! Your shameful gray skin!  _ The voice was normally louder, but today it seemed to have no strength. 

"Where did you get these scars, if I may ask?" Teldryn spoke. His voice was gentle, not accusatory or disgusted like so many others had sounded when they had asked the same question. "I noticed them when Maramal healed you the day of the riot, but it was a little too busy to ask then." 

"My parents, mostly," Tabethys mumbled sleepily. He felt far away and not quite real, so answering the questions wasn't nearly as alarming it usually was. He chuckled at that notion. 

"Oh," Teldryn whispered, "I'm sorry." Tabethys barely registered that he said it. Teldryn traced the scars, and Tabethys melted into the softness of the mer's finger, swaying slightly.

He dipped the cloth back into the bucket and added more soaproot, then he knelt in front of Tabethys, set the bucket down on the floor beside him, and started carefully wiping away the grime on Tabethys's face. Tabethys opened his eyes and looked down at Teldryn. He had taken his armor off at some point, so Tabethys could see the sharp lines of the spellsword's face, the swooping brows and soft, curved lips. Tabethys's breath hitched. Down further, he could see the taught muscles beneath the mer's thin tunic, his warm gray skin, and a slight down of chest hair peeking out from under the collar. 

"Teldryn," Tabethys breathed. 

"Hm?" Teldryn hummed in response, not meeting Tabethys's eyes, intensely focusing on wiping some dirt off Tabethys's cheek. 

"Teldryn," Tabethys said again. 

Teldryn stopped with the cloth and met Tabethys's eyes. Tabethys noticed that Teldryn's eyes were deep red, so dark they were almost black. They were like pools, deep and filled with wine. There was fire behind those eyes; Tabethys could sense it. 

He didn't know who kissed whom first, but all of a sudden their faces were pressed together, a mess of breath, lips, teeth, and tongue. Tabethys was panting, desperate. He wanted to feel something. He  _ needed _ to be brought back to his body. He wanted to dive into Teldryn's and search for a way back to his own. 

Tabethys pulled Teldryn on top of him, kissing him as they leaned back onto the bed. Teldryn leaned back, looked down at Tabethys, a complex expression on his face. 

"What is it?" Tabethys asked. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Teldryn asked. 

"What do you mean? I dragged you over here, didn't I?" 

Teldryn bit his lip. "Yeah, but thirty minutes ago, you were saying I wasn't even your friend." 

Tabethys pressed his lips together and averted his eyes. "I'm sorry about that. I don't know what I was saying. Of course you're my friend." 

"You just don't seem like yourself right now, Tabethys." Teldryn got off of Tabethys and sat next to him on the bed, elbows on his knees. "I know you're upset about Romlyn. Maybe that has something to do with this. I don't know. Maybe you do genuinely like me. And I enjoy a one-night thing as much as the next guy… but not when I'm… I don't know, taking advantage." 

Tabethys propped himself up on one elbow. "You're not taking advantage." 

Teldryn turned to face Tabethys. "I would feel like I was if we did this tonight, though. For Azura's sake, you couldn't even bathe yourself these last few days, Tabs. So, as much as I do want this, want  _ you _ , I have to walk away. But if you still feel this way, if you still want me after we find Romlyn, I'll be here." 

Teldryn stood and grabbed his armor, then he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Tabethys, still propped up on one elbow, stared at the spot where Teldryn had just been. Then he flopping back onto the mattress, rolled over, stuffed his face in the pillow, and screamed. 

_______________

Romlyn didn't know how many days had passed, but felt like a week had gone by. He was dizzy with hunger, thirst, exposure, and worst of all, blood loss. He couldn't even cast basic healing spells on himself thanks to the magicka dampening cuffs. He looked down at himself, vision swimming. He was covered in dirt and dried blood, and the loin cloth that offered him the barest shred of decency had fallen on the ground, baring himself fully to anyone who happened by. His torso was covered in slash marks from various weapons: daggers, chains, whips, even bear claws at one point. He had given up hope of being rescued, and Vex's words echoed in his mind:  _ No one is coming for you… If you really cared about your friends, you'd wish they'd never find you… Tabethys thinks you left Riften… the pressure was too great…  _

Footsteps approached, and Romlyn winced. 

"Please, please, please, don't hurt me. Please can I have some water? Just a little water?" Romlyn begged. He didn't even look up to see who it was; he could tell by the light footsteps that it was probably Vex. It hurt too much to look up anymore. 

"Not unless you're willing to tell me what I want to know. You tell me, I let you go. It's as simple as that," Vex said. 

"I--I-- you promise? You'll let me go if I tell you? You'll give me water?" Romlyn asked. His mind was broken; looking at his thoughts was like looking through shattered glass. Everything was fractured. 

"Of course," Vex said, her voice sickly sweet. She reached out and grabbed Romlyn's chin. "That's all I've wanted. I never  _ wanted  _ to hurt you, dark elf. I just needed certain information. If you would only tell me, all of this could have been avoided. At least now, if you tell me, we can forgo more…  _ extreme _ measures." 

Romlyn blinked rapidly, trying to wet his eyes. His mouth stuck together, and his throat scratched. His stomach hurt so badly it felt as if something were eating him from the inside out. 

"We have a union," he blurted. "Me and Mjoll--we started it. B-but everyone joined. Well, almost everyone. Especially after--after--Keerava…" 

"That's it," Vex cooed, smoothing down Romlyn's disgusting, matted hair. "Keep talking." 

"Marise, Talen-Jei, B-Brand-Shei," Romlyn stuttered. "They're part of it, too. An-And so is Bolli." Romlyn's teeth chattered with the cold. The damp of the Ratway had seeped into his bones, pruning his fingers and shriveling his skin. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball, but even that had been denied to him by the cuffs that held him splayed open, available for all to see, against the slick, stone wall. 

"What did you hope to achieve by this?" Vex asked, continuing to pet Romlyn's wild hair. 

The touching was revolting to Romlyn, but he was too afraid to reject her, to move away what little he could. So he spilled everything. He wanted to stop. The shame of betraying his beloved friends, his beloved Tabethys, split him wide open and raw. But he couldn't stop. "We were going to take power from Maven Black-Briar, and try t-to burn down the corruption in Riften." 

Vex gave Romlyn a drink of water, tilting his head back for him and slowly pouring some in his mouth. Romlyn drank it desperately, trying to get as much as he could before Vex snatched the waterskin away. 

"Is that so?" she asked. "How did you plan to achieve this?" 

Romlyn continued telling every little secret he could think of to Vex. He stuttered and mumbled his way through the tale, concealing nothing. He even told her about his feelings for Tabethys. Everything was laid bare to see, just as he was laid bare. 

_______________

"You  _ said _ you had it under control," Maven growled at her mercenary. "Murder, fine, but a public execution? What were you  _ thinking _ ?! I should have hired the Dark Brotherhood! They would never be so careless." She never should have hired that idiot, let alone given him free reign. She had trusted him, and look where it had landed her: in a gods forsaken crypt in the middle of nowhere, hiding from a mindless mob of barbaric peasants, foaming at the mouth with rage driven only by jealousy. 

Maul glared at her. "I  _ did _ have it under control. If you'd let me kill the other lizard, too, there wouldn't be a problem. And need I remind you that the Dark Brotherhood never answered your ritual? Perhaps you don't have the pull you once did." 

Maven stood up from the stone table and pointed a gnarled finger at the brute. "Now, you listen here, you blithering idiot, Riften is still very much  _ my _ city. One minor setback,  _ your _ minor setback, doesn't change that. I still have more than half the guard on payroll, and Laila is nothing more than a figurehead." 

Maul raised an eyebrow at her. 

"You know, you should speak with more reverence to me, Maul. I am the one who pays your salary." Maven sat back down at the table and inspected her nails. Staying in a dilapidated old tomb was not good for her hygiene. "I grow tired of this place. Assemble some of my guards and hire mercenaries. It's time to plan an attack on Riften." 

"Attack?" Maul said, eyebrow raised. 

"Yes, attack." Maven looked him up and down. Maul was wearing his plain tunic, his steel armor off in the corner, being shined by one of the servants. His tunic was slightly too small, and hugged his chest and arms, clearly displaying his bulging muscles. Maven licked her lips. "Do you think I would let such a bold display of disrespect go unpunished? I will have every participant of that pitiful little spat beheaded." 

Maul nodded. "Wise, milady. An iron fist and a healthy dose of fear are a strong way to rule." 

"Indeed." Maven looked down at the items on the stone table. A flickering candle lit the dark cavern, casting long shadows every which way. There was a letter from Brynjolf in front of her which she had yet to read. Maul had just seen the courier about it, and he had brought her pen, paper, and ink for which to compose a response. No doubt he had discovered information that had led to the volatile situation. How dreadfully inconvenient. 

_ Lady Maven,  _

_ I have uncovered information pertaining to the events of last Turdas. I believe _

_ you will find this information useful, and even surprising. A dark elf stumbled _

_ into the Thieves Guild sanctuary and, on pain of torture, confessed that several _

_ of the city's people had joined together with the intention of seeing you _

_ banished from Riften or even executed. I regret to inform you that this man was _

_ Romlyn Dreth, an employee of yours. I have found that he has a strong  _

_ relationship with a traveler to Riften, another dark elf named Tabethys.  _

_ The situation is yours to deal with as you see fit. We can execute this man, _

_ torture him longer, or any other fitting punishment you call for.  _

_ Awaiting your reply.  _

_ Brynjolf _

So, the weak link had been a dark elf. Go figure. Those wretched little beasts were always scurrying about, demanding hand-outs and special treatment. Damned refugees. 

"Maul," Maven said. "What do you know of Romlyn Dreth?" 

She already knew most of the dark elf's story: he was born in Riften to a Skooma addict; the guild had considered recruiting him, but didn't because they were concerned he would be a Skooma addict like his mother; he lived in a little hole in the wall under the city. Oh, and he was stealing her mead. She had yet to find an adequate way to punish him, but it seemed he'd paid his dues for that already, what with the Thieves Guild torturing him. 

"Romlyn Dreth? Little weasel's a Riften native. Some say he's the one who does the graffiti in the city," Maul replied, his deep, scratchy voice reverberating off the tomb walls. 

Maven hummed in response, thinking. What would a graffiti artist hate to lose most? She grinned and began penning her response. 

"Send word to Brynjolf to cut off his hands. One for the theft of my mead, the other for conspiring against me and my family." Maven handed Maul the letter and then waved him off, not waiting to hear his response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still very much a work in progress, but I am thrilled to announce that I hit 50,000 words yesterday! After starting this story on January 24th, I didn't imagine I would get this far in it, but your comments have fueled me, so thank you for them. I hope you liked this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Maul travels to Riften to deliver a message, Tabethys and the Riften People's Union decide to send one of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: sexual harassment, torture, PTSD

Tythis was just a peasant, had been all his life; he'd never considered himself to be the type for success or money. No, love was more his style. Originally, that's what drew him to Riften: the Temple of Mara. He sighed and chopped another piece of firewood. This city was not what he had been led to believe it would be. True, it was the best place for a Dunmer to live in Skyrim. It wasn't like Windhelm where all the Dunmer were shoved into some forgotten slum. But still. It wasn't Mournhold. He chopped another piece of wood. 

Tythis put the axe back in the loop on his waist sash and stooped over to grab the pile of wood. He took it outside the city gate through the docks, up the hill to the Merry-Fair Farm. One of the farmers, a Dunmer man named Dravin Llenith, nodded to Tythis as he set down the stack. Tythis stepped back and started walking towards the docks again when something in the distance caught his eye. It was shining, reflecting the sun as it bobbed. It was someone's armor, Tythis realized. 

"You expecting company?" Tythis asked Dravin. 

"I'm not," Dravin said. He stopped pulling weeds and looked out to where Tythis was looking, hand over his eyes to block the sun. 

The figure drew closer. Silver armor glinted, and long black hair framed the Nord man's face. "Holy shit," Tythis breathed. 

"What?" Dravin asked. "Who is it?" 

"Do you live under a rock out here, Dravin? That's Maul, Maven Black-Briar's right-hand man. He killed Keerava in broad daylight and the guards just let him go. Remember that riot? That's what it was all about." Tythis scratched his head. "What balls he has to come back to this city now. Practically everyone wants to kill him, and that's no secret." 

"Well, I've got a bow, and I'm a damn good shot. Why don't I go grab it; we'll give it a shot." 

Before Tythis could protest, Dravin ran off to his house. He came back out with the bow, his wife, Synda, right behind him. Two young Dunmer children were behind her, clinging to her skirt. 

"What is going on?!" she demanded. 

"It's Maul," Tythis said, pointing out to the lone Nord. 

"Oh, Azura's mercy!" Synda exclaimed. She had obviously kept up with current events better than her husband. "Dravin, don't even think about it. He could have a secret army lying out there in wait. You'll endanger us both, and the children, too!" She hugged her kids closer. 

Dravin ignored her, though, and knocked an arrow. He pulled back, set his sights, and released. The arrow flew through the sky, whistling as it cut through the air. Distantly, Maul cried out. 

"Oh my," Synda gasped, hand over her mouth. 

Maul fell to one knee, but no one came to aid him. He pushed himself to his feet and drew his sword, turning in every direction. It was clear he had no idea who had shot him or from where. He was wounded, weak. 

"Finish him off!" Tythis urged. 

Dravin drew another arrow from his quiver and knocked it, breathed out, took aim. He let it loose; it flew through the air, hit its mark. Maul cried out and slumped over. 

"Oh by the Three. Is he dead?" Synda asked. 

"I don't know. It appears so," Dravin answered. 

"Let's go make sure," Tythis suggested. "We don't want him getting back up from this one." 

"What about reinforcements?" Synda asked, her voice rising. 

Dravin gestured out to the lone brute. "Do you see anyone out there? If he had reinforcements, they'd have come to his aid by now." 

Synda didn't say anything. 

"Let's go," Tythis said. 

They started down the hill, out towards the lake where Maul was. He took out his axe, holding it defensively just in case. Dravin followed behind him, an arrow knocked preemptively, as well. 

As they approached, they heard Maul's ragged breathing. Blood was pouring from his wounds. Dravin's arrows had both hit him in the weak spot in his armor on his side. They were lodged deep into him, no doubt puncturing his lungs, as well as other vital organs. 

"Tythis," Maul hissed. "I never suspected  _ you'd  _ be the one to kill me." 

"It was by  _ my  _ arrow," Dravin spoke. 

"Why were you coming to Riften?" Tythis asked. 

"I ain't tellin' you shit," Maul spat. He growled, bearing his teeth. "If you're gonna do it, then do it." 

Tythis looked to Dravin, who shrugged, then Tythis raised his axe and brought it down on the Nord's neck, hard. With a loud squelch, the dull blade cut through Maul's neck, half-severing his head. 

"Truly foul," Dravin sniffed. 

"We did the world a favor by getting rid of him," Tythis commented. 

"Yes, I believe you're right." Dravin bent down to rifle through the Nord's pockets. He pulled out an elegant dagger, a few coins, a tarnished garnet, and a letter. 

Tythis swooped over and picked up the letter. He opened it, mumbling the words as he read. "Holy shit," he breathed. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and took off down the dirt path towards Riften. 

"What happened?!" Synda shouted as Tythis blasted through the farm. Tythis did not stop to explain; he kept running, the world blurring as he went. He leapt onto the docks, pushing past Wujeeta, who exclaimed, and ran through the entrance, and turned down and kept running, his lungs bursting, until he reached The Bee and Barb. 

_______________

Tabethys sat at the little table in his room, scrawling his thoughts on a paper roll. There seemed to be too much going through his head all at once, and he needed to sort it out. He put his quill to the page and started to write. 

**_BANG BANG BANG!!_ **

"What the--?!" 

"Tabethys open up!! It's me, Tythis! I found something you're gonna wanna see!" 

Tabethys put his quill back in its ink well, pushed to his feet, and opened the door. "Tythis, what on--" 

"Look at this." Tythis shoved a note into Tabethys's hands. 

Tabethys raised his eyebrow and turned the note over in his hands. 

_ Brynjolf.  _

_ So my former employee thinks he can steal my mead,  _

_ burn my house down, and get away with it? He's wrong. The  _

_ little twerp burned down my house with those hands, and my  _

_ associate tells me he's something of an artist, too. Well,  _

_ he won't be much of an artist without his hands, now will  _

_ he? Not that he was much of one to begin with. Cut them off.  _

_ Make sure you round up all the members of this so-called  _

_ "union," too. Let them know their little "leader" sold them  _

_ out to ME.  _

_ M _

"Oh shit," Tabethys breathed. "Tythis, how did you get this?" 

"I was delivering some wood to the Merryfair Farm when Dravin and I saw Maul coming over the hill. Dravin shot him with his arrow, then I put him out of his misery. He won't be bothering anyone anymore." Tythis squared his shoulders proudly. "He had that letter on him when he died." 

"Amazing. I can't believe he wasn't traveling with anybody." Tabethys looked down at the letter in his hands. "So, now we know where Romlyn is." 

"Well, not exactly," Tythis said. "The Ratway is huge. We could be down there for days and never find him." 

Tabethys frowned. "One of the guards said they saw Romlyn go into the graveyard and then disappear. Is there any chance of there being some sort of hidden entrance in the graveyard?" 

Tythis scratched his head. "I wouldn't know, but it wouldn't surprise me. Maybe you could ask Sapphire? She's been known to go into the Ratway. She's not very pleasant, mind you. And I wouldn't be surprised if she was  _ in _ the Guild. But you never know." 

"Thanks, Tythis," Tabethys said. He smiled for what must have been the first time since Romlyn disappeared. "This was a tremendous help. I can't imagine what might have happened if Maul had been allowed to go to Brynjolf… what this letter says…" A shudder ran down Tabethys's spine. 

"I know," Tythis whispered. "I just can't believe he's been down there this whole time, and we never knew." 

"Yeah," Tabethys mumbled. The letter said Romlyn had betrayed them, and it was clearly from Maven. So she was still alive, just hiding somewhere. What would she do when she realized Maul was never coming back? What had the Thieves Guild done to Romlyn to make him betray the Union? He would never do that willingly. Tabethys shoved aside his thoughts. It was time to go rescue Romlyn. 

"Tythis, can you round up some of the fighters? Mjoll, and anyone else who can fight and wants to come. We have to rescue Romlyn, and it's going to be tough." 

"Of course," Tythis said. He ran out of the inn, leaving Tabethys to prepare himself. Maybe if he and Teldryn both approached Sapphire and intimidated her, she would tell them the truth. 

Teldryn. 

Tabethys bit the inside of his lip thinking about the other night. They still had yet to speak since then. But it was time to break the ice. 

Tabethys picked up his chitin cuirass from the wardrobe and slipped it on over his blue Dunmeri shirt. Then he sat back down on the bed and pulled on his chitin boots. They were scuffed and the soles were starting to become worn. But they were uniquely his, molded to his body, his foot. He then slipped on his chitin bracers, wiggling his fingers in the gloves to get them on the rest of the way. Lastly, his scaled horn helmet. The horns were pointed upwards in defiance, and there was no mask or cowl to hide his face. He preferred his enemies to know who had slain them. 

A sigh heaved from Tabethys's lungs; it was time to face the awkwardness and talk to Teldryn. He left his room and knocked on the door across the hall. 

"Teldryn?" 

Teldryn emerged, fully armored, ready to go. "I overheard. You need me, don't you?" 

Tabethys smiled. "Yeah. I need you. Follow me!" 

"Lead on!" Although Teldryn's scarf was covering his face, Tabethys could hear the smile in his words. 

_______________

A small crowd had gathered in the marketplace. Mjoll, Grelka, Marise, Brand-Shei, Mjoll, Tythis, and Balimund milled around the front of The Bee and Barb, talking excitedly to one another. Guards stood surrounding them, arms crossed, ready to make a move at the first sign of another riot. 

"Tabethys!" Mjoll cried heartily. She extended a long hand and shook Tabethys's. "It's been a while since I have seen you this pleased, my friend." 

"That is because I have good news," Tabethys said. "I know where Romlyn is being held." 

Cheers erupted. More people gathered around, including Damon, Madesi, Ungrien, and even Indaryn. Tabethys explained what he knew about the letter. 

"So what's the plan?" Grelka asked flatly. 

"Well, there was a lead I was going to check. See if there's a Thieves Guild entrance in the graveyard. But seeing how many people are here… that might not be necessary. We could just storm the place." 

"I vote we storm the place!" Mjoll shouted, raising her warhammer over her head. "Let them get a taste of what we're made of!" 

"Well, who actually is volunteering to go?" Tabethys asked. Hands flung up. He started counting them. Mjoll, Grelka, Tythis, Marise, Balimund, Brand-Shei, Ungrien, and Damon had raised their hands. Adding in Teldryn and himself, that made ten. 

"Tythis, Marise, Brand-Shei, Talen-Jei, none of you have armor," Teldryn pointed out. 

"I literally sell armor," Grelka snapped. 

"I have the best weapons steel can forge," Balimund announced. 

"Well, I can't afford that," Marise sniffed. 

"Fine, union members get it free. But you'd better be willing to reciprocate if I need something later," Grelka said. 

Everyone began exchanging weapons and armor. Fitting people for armor was no fast task, though, so by the time everyone was ready, the sun was beginning to set. Teldryn brought out a large plate of food: enough salmon steaks for everyone. 

"Bolli sends his regrets that he cannot fight, but he donated this food to us," Teldryn said.

"For a moment there, I thought you could cook," Tabethys teased. "I was gonna ask why you hadn't cooked for me yet, since I'm paying you and all." 

"I have many hidden talents, some of which money cannot buy," Teldryn said, winking at Tabethys. 

The crew was energetic. The food was just what they all needed. The new armor was fitted, and new weapons had been distributed. Adrenaline of the coming hunt was rushing through everyone's veins. 

"It's been too long that we just let those thieves sit and cause trouble," Mjoll growled. 

"Stay safe, please, Mjoll," Aerin pleaded. "I don't want a repeat of last time." 

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "Do not worry. I am the greatest fighter those skeever droppings have ever seen. I'll be fine." 

Aerin smiled at her, but he could not hide the worried look in his eyes. 

Teldryn picked up his elven sword, Mjoll swung her warhammer over her shoulder, and Tabethys pulled a flame into his left hand, and his ebony sword into his right. Everyone stormed down the stairs, ready for the fight. Tabethys approached the Rayway, swung open the metal gate, and opened the black iron door. The people stopped, collectively bracing themselves. This was about to get real. 

_______________

"You promised!" Romlyn cried. "You promised you'd let me go if I told you what I knew!" 

Vex chuckled. "Honey, don't you know there's no honor among thieves? You're lucky I gave you water." 

Pain stabbed into his stomach. The wounds from the various torture devices were still fresh on his body. He winced. 

"We sent word to Maven of our...  _ discovery _ , and she will inform us what to do with you next. Judging from the many ways you've fucked her over lately, I guarantee it won't be pleasant. Some say that all her former employees are at the bottom of Lake Honrich, but I guess you'll be the one to know for certain after a while." 

Romlyn gulped. Vex approached and touched his face. He recoiled. "Don't you worry. I quite like you. I might be able to convince them not to kill you. I could make you my pet." She reached down and cupped his penis. "I do hope you're a grower, not a shower." 

Dread filled the pit of Romlyn's stomach. Was he to live the rest of his life this way? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. Crying was a waste of valuable water. 

All at once, a loud commotion started happening. People were screaming, and it sounded like a fight. 

"Oh what now?" Vex drew her dagger and left the room. 

Romlyn looked up, listening intently. What was going on out there? 

He heard the unmistakable sound of a fireball exploding, followed by screams. Whether they were screams of fury or fear, he couldn't tell. 

_______________

Tabethys moved silently through the corridors, his troupe following just behind. He crouched low, keeping to the shadows. He stopped and threw up an open palm, his crew halting behind him. There was a cavern with a single table in the middle, and a man was hunched over it. Tabethys held up a closed fist and moved towards the man alone. He drew his ebony dagger from its sheath at his side, and without a sound, he crept up behind the man and stabbed him in the back. A squelching sound whispered in the cavern, and the man gasped and slumped to the floor. Tabethys sheathed his dagger, drew his sword, and then motioned for his troupe to follow him. 

They continued through the corridors until they came upon a vaulted chamber. A thin sliver of light filtered down from an opening at the top. Water from the sewers above dripped slowly, the rank smell wafting through the room. Tabethys followed the beam of light until his gaze came to rest on a small bed of plants and moss. A single blue butterfly flitted around one of the pale pink flowers. Tabethys watched the butterfly as it rested on the flower without a care in the world, admiring how the beauty of life could find a foothold even in the most decrepit places. 

There was a small archway on the left, and Tabethys led his friends down it. Finally, they came upon some Thieves Guild members. 

"What's our next move?" Teldryn whispered. Mjoll was on his right, her eye trained on the the Thieves Guild member at the forefront of what looked to be a club or bar. 

She didn't wait for Tabethys to answer; she drew her warhammer and charged the Thieves Guild at full speed, shouting at the top of her lungs, "FOR RIFTEN!!!" 

"I guess our next move is to go out and fight," Tabethys said. 

Thieves Guild members jumped up from their tables and drew their weapons. One was too slow, and Ungrien got him with his arrow. Mjoll engaged the large man who was stationed at the front of the bar. The sound of angry grunts and clashing metal rang out from their fight. Teldryn summoned his flame atronach and charged a fireball of his own, and the two began pummeling Thieves Guild members with fireballs. 

Tabethys ran into the assault, sword overhead, and slashed at a thief. The thief snarled at Tabethys and swung his own sword. Tabethys tried to dodge, but the blade connected with his side, lightning sparks flying, and he stumbled. The thief lunged forward, slashed down. Tabethys ducked and rolled. He sprang to his feet, lashed out, his blade connecting with the thief's side. Tabethys narrowly avoided another strike, and used his momentum to kick the thief in the chest. The thief sputtered and fell. His blade clattered across the floor. He scrambled for his blade. Tabethys was faster. He slammed his foot into the thief's back, brought his sword down. It ripped through the leather armor, slicing bone, spilling blood. 

A woman screamed. Tabethys looked up. She was standing at the mouth of an entrance he hadn't noticed yet, two swords drawn. She ran at him with fury, arms pumping. Tabethys drew flame into his left hand and threw it at her. She stumbled but didn't fall. He grinned. Yes, she outnumbered him two blades to one, but he was the Dragonborn. 

He put one foot behind him. Inhaled. 

" _ FUS… RO DAH!! _ " 

The thief flew back with the force of his Dragon shout, slammed against the wall, and slumped to the ground. Arms and legs bent and broken; head turned back, eyes glazed. Her mouth contorted in a perpetual, silent scream. 

The only sounds were those of the group panting and the slow, steady dripping of water. 

"Jeez," Teldryn panted, voice echoing. "Why didn't you just do that to begin with?" 

Tabethys looked out at his friends. Everyone was alive. Marise had a nasty wound on her forehead, and Brand-Shei hadn't moved from where they'd been hiding earlier, but everyone was okay. Relief washed through Tabethys. He relaxed his grip on his sword, letting it fall to the ground. Then he wrapped Teldryn and Mjoll up in a hug. 

"Now let's go find Romlyn." 

_______________

Romlyn struggled against his chains, straining to see where Vex had gone. 

"FOR RIFTEN!" Romlyn heard Mjoll shout. If that was Mjoll, could it be...? 

"MJOLL!!" he shouted. "MJOLL, MJOLL, I'M IN HERE!!" He started thrashing around on the wall, trying to make as much noise as he possibly could. No one came. He heard more shouting, and someone yelled "NOOO!" And then he heard a much louder, much more terrifying noise. 

Everything stopped abruptly. 

Romlyn didn't know which was worse: not knowing what the noise had been, or the silence that followed once he'd figured it out. 

Every fiber in Romlyn's being wanted to run, to escape, but he still couldn't use magic. He didn't have a key. He couldn't even move more than an inch in any direction. Every aching muscle in his body tense, he tried to stay awake, poised, ready. If Vex came back after killing his friends… she would be even more excited than usual. Romlyn felt his stomach drop, sweat beading up on his brow. 

A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by the faint light from the other room. 

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Romlyn screamed, thrashing. He wouldn't let that witch touch him again! "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" 

The figure approached and reached out. Fingers splayed. Grabbing. Grabbing softly? 

Romlyn stopped thrashing and looked through squinted eyes, muscles in his face fighting, fighting, fighting, trying so hard to see. 

"Tabethys?" Had he truly gone mad? 

"Yes," Tabethys said. His eyes were filled with gems. Gleaming. There was fire in his eyes, fire in his heart. "Romlyn, it's me." 

Romlyn thrashed. "No! No, don't play your tricks on me!" 

"Someone find the key!" Tabethys barked. Romlyn yelped and stopped thrashing. He tensed his muscles instinctively even though he knew the tensing made the pain worse. Pain. Pain. Please, no more pain. 

"Don't worry, we're getting you out of here," Tabethys said softly. He smoothed Romlyn's hair. Hair. 

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Romlyn screamed. He opened his mouth, searching for flesh. Found it. Bit down. Blood, metal, SCREAMING! 

"Ah, fuck!" Tabethys cried. "Let go! Romlyn!" 

Romlyn let go and the squishy, bloody arm fell out. The familiar ring of healing magicka rang out. "Please, please. I'm sorry. Please just heal me, please!" Romlyn begged. 

"Of course," Tabethys said. He moved from his own arm to Romlyn's stomach. The magicka was warm. But the touch! The touching! It was unbearable! 

"NO STOP!" Romlyn shouted. Tabethys yanked his hand back. 

"The key," someone said. Tabethys held the shining thing in his hand. He held it up so Romlyn could see. 

"Look," he said. The key was small, silver. It glinted. "I'm going to unlock the shackles at your feet first, then I'll reach up over your head and unlock the shackles on your wrists, okay? It won't hurt." 

Romlyn nodded. Freedom. No more shackles. He wanted his fire back so badly he could feel it welling up inside him like a dam about to burst. Tabethys leaned down, his head at level with Romlyn's penis. Every little cell in his body was on fire.  _ Click! _ The shackles popped off. Tabethys reached up, his beard hairs tickling Romlyn's cheek.  _ Don't. Bite. Him.  _ He felt the mechanics in the shackles unhook as Tabethys twisted the key. 

The shackle popped open, and Romlyn collapsed into Tabethys's arms. 

"LET ME GO!" he roared. But he was too weak to stand on his own. His legs wobbled, his knees creaked. Weak, pitiful fool! 

Tabethys put a blanket around Romlyn's shoulders. The blanket was soft. So soft. He rubbed his wrists, mind gone. The touching. There was so much touching. He was being paraded through the town, and he could feel eyes on him. They were like rotting fruits, maggots crawling on dead flesh, stinking shit floating in a river. A bloated body. He couldn't stand on his own feet. They wobbled. Tabethys's arm violating his space. He had no space. No body. Not a single cell in a body to call his own. 

_______________

" _ DON'T TOUCH ME!!" _ Romlyn screamed, jumping up from his bed. He grabbed the first blunt object he could get his hands on and swung, hard. The fire poker connected with the stone wall of his house, and a loud  _ CLANG! _ rang out. 

There was no one there. 

Romlyn seeped back into his bed, pulled the fur blankets up over his head, and curled into the smallest ball he could make himself. His breathing was rapid; his eyes darted all over the place. There was nothing to see but the soft, pale fur of his blanket. He reached down and touched his stomach. Expecting to feel flesh ripped open, he heaved a sigh of relief when he felt soft linen instead. 

_ It's okay. I'm not in the Ratway. I'm at home. I'm wearing clothes. I'm laying down in my bed, not shackled to a wall. I'm okay. I'm okay.  _

His breathing slowed, and his eyes, suddenly heavy with sleep, closed.

_______________

"Romlyn?" a voice called through his front door. He didn't know how many days had passed since he'd been brought from the Ratway. 

"I brought you some food," the voice said again. 

Romlyn dragged himself up from the floor. He had taken to lying on his stomach on the floor, gazing silently into the fire, with a blanket over him. It was the furthest from being shackled to a wall he could think of. He opened the door a crack. It was Tabethys. 

"Hey," Tabethys said. He held up a steaming bowl. "I brought you some soup." 

Romlyn opened the door and stood behind it, allowing Tabethys to come in. He set the bowl on the table, then stood awkwardly by the door Romlyn was still holding open. 

"Do you want me to go?" Tabethys asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. Romlyn stood by the door for a moment, thinking. One person might not be so bad. At least then he wouldn't be so terribly alone. He shut the door. 

Romlyn sat at the seat where Tabethys had placed the soup, holding his blanket over his body, concealing the shape of it.  _ Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me-- _

"Don't worry, I won't touch you," Tabethys said. He crossed the room and sat down at the chair opposite Romlyn. 

Romlyn looked up, startled, eyes wide. Tabethys's face was contorted in some foreign expression. 

"I remember. You don't like to be touched." 

Romlyn's shoulders relaxed--he hadn't even realized they'd been tense--and he picked up the spoon and began to eat the soup. He scarfed it down, fast, greedily. The soup was hot; it burned his mouth. He drank it down. Some dribbled on his chin, and he paused. Tabethys was sitting there at the table across from him, silently watching. He set the bowl down and wiped his face sheepishly. 

"Don't worry about me. I'm just here to keep you company," Tabethys said. His voice was so soft. It was like a feather. It floated gently through the air, caressing Romlyn's ears. It was so unlike Vex's scratchy, nasally voice. Her voice--Romlyn shuddered.  _ Wooden bowl. Warm soup. Bright fire. Solid chair.  _ He squeezed his eyes shut, breathed deep. 

"You okay?" Tabethys sounded concerned. He reached out, but stopped halfway through the gesture and let his hand fall to the table. 

Romlyn nodded. He picked up his spoon, and with great deliberation, dipped it into the soup. A chopped leek and a potato chunk fell into the reservoir, chased in by some of the broth. Slowly, Romlyn brought the spoon up out of the bowl. He opened his mouth and gently pushed the soup into his mouth. He savored the flavors, the warmth of it. It slid down the back of his throat, soothing, and settled in his stomach. Romlyn closed his eyes again, but softly. Not to block out, but to savor. The smallest of a smile fluttered across his face, gone as quick as it came. 

"You like it?" Tabethys asked. 

Romlyn nodded, focusing intently on the soup. He spooned another bite into his mouth, less carefully this time, eager for the warmth and familiarity of the soup. 

"Is it okay if I talk? You don't have to say anything back," Tabethys asked. 

Romlyn didn't look up but nodded again. _ Yes, please talk, anything to take away the silence _ , he wanted to say. 

"Okay! I saw the art piece you did. Outside the Temple? On the wall? I didn't know you were so talented. I'd never considered painting with ash before. Normally people just do it with ochre or crushed flowers. But painting with ash? Wow, what an idea. When I was a kid, I wasn't allowed to use fire magic, so I really went nuts with it when I first left home, but I never thought of using fire to  _ create _ something, only to destroy--" 

Tabethys went on talking, but Romlyn's thoughts wandered. His soft, soothing voice, combined with the soup and the weight of the blanket made Romlyn the most relaxed he'd been since he had fallen into that trap. His eyes focused on the fire, watching as it danced in the hearth. It was so lifelike, so vivid. It was hard to imagine that a small flame could destroy an entire town. It was so small now, so low and dark. At this stage of its life, even the smallest drop of water, like that in his soup, could snuff it. It would blip out of existence. But nurture it with wood and air, and it could grow to a formidable size. Enough to devour all in its path. Romlyn took another bite of soup. 

"--and then he handed me this letter addressed to Brynjolf from Maven about you, and that's how we knew to find you. I'm really sorry it took so long," Tabethys was saying. His voice dropped off, sad and low. 

Romlyn reached out and laid his hand on Tabethys's. He looked at their hands, Tabethys's a purple-hued gray, his own a green hue. Tabethys's hand was warm, his skin somehow rough and soft at the same time. Romlyn expected to be repelled by the feeling of skin on his own, but he wasn't. He wanted more. He looked up, meeting Tabethys's eyes for the first time since he'd been rescued, he realized. They were still just as purple and deep as they had been when they had met at The Bee and Barb all those weeks ago. 

"Thank you," Romlyn whispered. 

Tabethys swallowed. "For what?" he asked, voice quiet. 

"Everything." 

Romlyn shuffled his chair closer to Tabethys, making a horrid screeching sound as the wood dragged against stone. Tabethys tried to stifle a laugh, but he couldn't contain it and dissolved into loud, boisterous laughter. Romlyn felt a giggle welling up in his chest. It snowballed, and soon he was laughing just as hard as Tabethys. Tears rolled down Romlyn's face, and his mouth and sides hurt from the laughter. He looked at Tabethys through his tears, a big grin plastered on his face. 

Tabethys sighed and chuckled one last time. "I haven't laughed like that in weeks," he said. 

"Me neither." Romlyn smiled. It felt good to speak. To laugh. He rubbed his wrists, the harsh memory still stuck on his skin. The smile faded from his face; his gaze dropped. 

"Hey," Tabethys said gently, "it's okay. We'll get through this. You're not alone here." 

"Will you stay with me?" Romlyn asked meekly. He looked up at Tabethys. 

"Of course," Tabethys agreed without missing a beat. "Anything you need." 

"Would you… make more soup?" Romlyn raised his eyebrows. His heart pounded in his chest. Blood rushed in his ears.  _ Needy little bitch _ .  _ You think you deserve soup? You don't deserve food. TELL ME WHAT I-- _

"Of course!" Tabethys chirped. He jumped up from the table and went over to the small shelf in the corner. The fresh vegetables he had brought yesterday were still on the shelf. Romlyn watched, vision blurring, as Tabethys grabbed a few leeks, a potato, a cabbage, and a tomato. He chopped them and then set them down in the pot hanging in front of the fire and poured water over them, stirring occasionally. Romlyn trained his eyes on Tabethys's back. The blue tunic he wore looked so soft. 

"Hand me your bowl, would you?" 

Romlyn held up the bowl, and Tabethys poured some stew in. It steamed, and the vegetables bobbed in the broth. Romlyn gently set the bowl down and stared into it. Tabethys sat back down at the table. 

"Do you want to talk?" he asked. 

Romlyn shrugged. "Don't know what to say," he whispered. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute. Then Romlyn breathed in. Vex's voice echoed in his head,  _ He thought you were too weak to do the job! Everyone thinks you left town _ . 

"I'm sorry," Romlyn squeaked. The dam burst. Tears racked his body, and he collapsed onto the table, hiding his face in his hands. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Tabethys said. He moved closer to Romlyn. "Do you want a hug?" 

Romlyn nodded through his tears, and Tabethys wrapped him up and held him, smoothing his back as he heaved. Romlyn clung to Tabethys, and Tabethys rested his head on top of Romlyn's. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romlyn finds a hidden power and battles panic attacks in a crypt. Tabethys steps forward. Teldryn offers some begrudging advice. And there may be more to Maven Black-Briar's business than anyone ever thought...

"I want this house full of people," Romlyn barked. "I want singing, laughter, food, warmth!" He was running around frantically: too many cooking pots, not enough chairs, and not enough hands to help. It was the first Union meeting since his rescuing, and he didn't feel comfortable at all, but it was better to jump in headfirst than to wade in slowly. 

"Trust me, it's going to be a full house." Tabethys was rearranging furniture, finding places for the chairs donated by the Temple and The Bee and Barb. "The people are eager to see you again. They're thrilled you're back and ready to get back on with it. Since finding Maul outside the city gates, we know Maven's out there somewhere." 

Romlyn gritted his teeth. He felt a fire rise up in his chest. Maven. "I can't wait to gut that hag," he growled. 

Teldryn stood in the doorway, standing guard as usual. He didn't say much to Romlyn except a gruff "glad you're back" earlier that morning. Romlyn didn't know what to make of the quiet mer. 

The first few people arrived: Mjoll, Aerin, and Bolli. 

"Romlyn! How are you feeling?" Bolli asked. He clapped his hands firmly on Romlyn's shoulders. "We were all so worried about you." 

"I'm much better now. It's been a rough week, but I'm here." Romlyn offered a half smile, staring down the alarm bells ringing in his head.  _ It's not her; it's Bolli. Bolli is a friend. Friends are allowed to touch. _

"Glad to hear that," Bolli said. He smiled warmly at Romlyn and took a seat near the door. 

Mjoll and Aerin approached next. "I'm so glad that you're back to normal," Mjoll said. Aerin simply nodded to Romlyn. 

Back to normal? Romlyn didn't even know what normal looked like anymore. "Me, too," he lied. 

Soon, more people arrived. Some people he hadn't ever imagined would join the Union, including the Llanith's from the farm outside town. The room was abuzz with talk, and people kept approaching Romlyn. He didn't mind it; the noise of happy friends was much preferable to the silence. Silence allowed his thoughts to roam, to swell over him and crash like a tidal wave. Romlyn suppressed a shudder. 

"My friends! Thank you all for coming," Tabethys said, voice booming. The people settled into their seats and quieted down. "We are gathered here today mostly to celebrate the return of one of our own, Romlyn Dreth." Tabethys gestured to Romlyn, who moved sheepishly to a corner, and several of the people cheered. Marise smiled knowingly at him.  _ You know you like attention, don't try to be bashful and deny it _ , her sparkling red eyes said. 

"Aside from that, we do have important information to discuss," Tabethys continued. He had taken well to the leadership role in Romlyn's absence. Mjoll was sitting in the audience, not up front with Tabethys and Romlyn. Peculiar. "It has come to my attention that Maven Black-Briar is in fact alive. She's out there somewhere. Tythis, can you tell us more about what you found?" 

Tythis cleared his throat. "Yeah, Dravin Llanith and I killed Maul." Someone whooped. "His note let us to Romlyn," Tythis continued. "He was running from the northwest around the bend of Lake Honrich." 

Tabethys pulled out a map, and Tythis drew a trail on it. 

"If I had to guess," Tabethys held the map up for the audience to see, "the tunnels under the Black-Briar manor lead out somewhere in this area. We'll have to go back in the tunnels, see where they lead." Tabethys set the map down on the table behind him. 

"Last time we tried that, we almost died," Teldryn said. His voice was sharp, jagged. He was leaned against the back wall, concealed by a shadow. "We'll need to bring Waterbreathing potions this time." 

"I can make those for you," an old woman offered. It was Hafjorg, the woman who helped run Elgrim's Elixirs. She was known to be close with the Black-Briar girl, Ingun; Hafjorg's husband tutored the girl. Romlyn raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected her to be here. 

"Thank you, Hafjorg," Tabethys said. No one seemed concerned, so Romlyn ignored his uncertainty. 

They spent the next hour talking about various Union things. Grelka needed materials for making armor; Ungrien had some he could give her. People needed food; Marise needed more ice wraith teeth for her food preservation technique, and the Llaniths needed help on the farm. Tabethys expertly mediated the discussions, helping everyone come to win-win agreements. He was like an artist, weaving a tapestry of give and take among the people. 

Something had changed since Romlyn had been gone. The people were more… cooperative. They seemed to have a tightness, a bond that Romlyn didn't understand. They were laughing as they bargained, and the haggling seemed pleasant, familial even. Romlyn sat there, facing them, behind Tabethys, watching as they all talked. He couldn't help but feel like an outsider. They didn't need him. He had nothing to offer anyone. 

The meeting broke, and some people left. Ungrien and Tythis approached Romlyn. 

"Hey," Tythis said, shuffling his feet. 

Romlyn nodded to them, unsure of what to say.

"What was it like in there?" Ungrien asked. Tythis elbowed him and he yelped. 

"Don't  _ ask _ that!" he hissed. 

"What?!" Ungrien whined. 

"It's okay," Romlyn said. "It was… bad. They chained me to a wall and tortured me. I didn't have a single drink of water for days." 

Tythis and Ungrien looked at Romlyn, a mix pity and fear on their faces. 

"Well, at least they're all dead now, huh?" Romlyn deadpanned. 

Tythis forced a laugh from his chest. "Yeah, at least they're dead." 

They walked away, muttering quietly to each other. Romlyn turned away, not wanting them to see the pink crest of shame spreading across his face. He hadn't even  _ done _ anything, but he felt like he was… wrong somehow. Like he had made some terrible slight. Dammit, why couldn't things just go back the way they were? Romlyn kicked at the ground and walked away from the fireplace, towards the back of his meager living space. He leaned against the back wall, counting the cracks in the cobbled floor. 

Something thunked to the ground in front of Romlyn, causing him to snap out of his reverie. It was a leather cuirass, just laying there at his feet. Romlyn looked up and saw Grelka walking off without even a word. He picked it up, turning the pliable leather in his hands. It was worn, but not tattered, and it was expertly crafted. 

"You okay?" Teldryn asked Romlyn. Romlyn startled and looked over. The chitin clad warrior was still leaning against the wall, his goggles staring blankly into Romlyn's soul. 

"Yeah, fine." 

"It's okay to not be fine, you know," Teldryn replied. 

Romlyn huffed. "Yeah." He leaned against the wall, a respectable distance away from Teldryn, and watched as Tabethys laughed freely with Mjoll. 

"Things won't go back to the way they were," Teldryn said quietly. 

Romlyn side-eyed Teldryn. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean, sometimes things happen that change us forever." Teldryn stared straight ahead. "One day, you're just going through life, same as you always did. Then something happens, be it good or terrible, and nothing is ever the same again. For me and many other Dunmer, it was Red Mountain. There have been other, smaller events that changed me, too, but that one sticks out the most. For you…" Teldryn let his voice trail off, laying the words down for Romlyn to pick up. 

Romlyn sighed, and his gaze fell to the floor, studying the moss creeping up through the grout in between the stone tiles. "I just wish…" Wished what? Wished he'd never started graffiting? Wished he'd never fallen into that hole? Wished he'd never started the Union? 

"Yeah, I know," Teldryn replied. 

_______________

  
  


The second time in the tunnels, Tabethys felt much more prepared. He had a sufficient amount of Waterbreathing potions, and it hadn't just been raining. The sky was clear--not a single cloud, rare for this part of Skyrim. 

"I really hope we run into some Draugr," Teldryn said. "I'm aching to kill something." 

Tabethys laughed. "Me, too." 

They made quick work of the tunnel, going right at the fork, up the slight hill. Tabethys tried not to shudder as the memory of the flood washed over his mind. All the sconces that had been lit the last time they were here had burned out. The pale blue light of Tabethys's Candlelight spell lit the tunnel, and even though it was not very bright, compared to the inky blackness of the tunnel, it was plenty. 

Finally, they got past the part where they had nearly drowned, and Tabethys found it much easier to breathe. He slowed down to observe the tunnels. They were no longer made of newer, gray cobblestone, but old limestone. A crypt. 

Sure enough, the tunnel came to a dead end. Or at least, that's what the engineers had  _ wanted  _ them to think. 

Tabethys pressed his hand up against the cool stone wall. It was smooth, with dips and valleys all along it like someone had cut it from something. Like it wasn't originally here. He leaned in, moving his Candlelight closer. There was a seam, a crack that went all the way around the smooth stone. The stone on the other side of the crack was rough, course. And there was a draft. Tabethys held his hand just in front of the crack, and cool air sucked at him weakly. 

"This is a fake," he said. "Help me find the activation for it." 

Teldryn stepped back, and Tabethys began inspecting the wall. He'd been in enough Nord crypts to know a secret activator when he saw one; they were usually chains with a hand loop on the end, or a pedestal with a wooden lever, or on rare occasions, the Nords were clever and made them into puzzle keys. The designers of this crypt, however, were not that clever; the chain was hanging a few feet away from the supposed dead end. It looked like no attempts were made to conceal it. 

Tabethys pulled the ring and the stone disappeared below, revealing a circular cavern with shelves carved in the sides and skeletons lying peacefully in the shelves. 

"I can't believe how carelessly the dead are buried here," Teldryn sniffed. "I can't imagine letting my body just… rot away like that. No thank you. I'll take a funeral pyre any day over  _ this _ ." 

Tabethys ignored him and crossed the room, looking at the skeletons closely. There was nothing. Just old bones, old jewelry, and one ancient war axe. 

"How can this be a dead end?!" Tabethys exclaimed. 

Teldryn crossed his arms. "Maybe we went the wrong way at the fork." 

"I don't accept that. There has to be something here. A secret door? For fuck's sake, that's not just  _ nothing _ ." Tabethys stomped around, taking another look at the skeletons. There was an empty shelf; he'd skipped over it last time--what use was an empty shelf?--but this time, he examined it closely. There was a groove in it, and it didn't look like just normal wear and tear. It looked like a lock. But what would a lock be doing on an ancient crypt shelf? 

"What is it?" Teldryn asked, crossing the room to look over Tabethys's shoulder. 

Tabethys said nothing, but dug the mysterious key Teldryn had found in the manor out of his pocket. "I wonder," he breathed. He looked at the key, the emerald accents glinting in the Candlelight spell, and stuck it in the lock. There was no resistance; it turned in the lock with ease. He felt a  _ click _ , and the crypt started to rumble. 

"What the--?" Teldryn exclaimed, stumbling back. 

The entrance closed as the crypt moved. Another entrance came into view from the arch, only this room was well lit, and Tabethys could see barrels upon barrels. They were huge, the size of the mead barrels in the Black-Briary Meadery. Instinctively, Tabethys crouched, creeping slowly from the crypt into the storeroom. It smelled sickly sweet. Where had he smelled that before? 

"What do you think it is?" Tabethys whispered. 

"Looks like a meadery," Teldryn said. "But it doesn't smell like one." 

"Let's keep going, see what else we can find. Keep your guard up," Tabethys said, sword poised at his side, ready for anything. 

They walked through the large cavern. There were ten barrels on each side of the walkway, with several more behind each. They were twice as tall as Tabethys, maybe a little more, and none of them were labeled. At the end of the corridor, there was a plain wooden door. Tabethys approached and pressed his ear to it, hand out to tell Teldryn to stay silent. 

"...don't know when he's supposed to be back, what with the house being burned down," someone was saying. The voice was gruff, an Orsimer accent. 

"Don't know either, but it's nice that he ain't here as much. We can  _ taste test _ without him getting his panties in a wad," someone replied, laughing slyly, sharp Nord accent pinging off the stone walls. 

Tabethys held up two fingers. Teldryn took out his Elven sword. Tabethys put one finger down, and then the other, his fist in the air. Then he sprang up and flung the door open, sword held aloft, shouting a Dunmeri battlecry. 

"What was that?!" 

Teldryn and Tabethys swooped in, slashing, severing tendons, searing flesh. Blood sprayed on the stone walls, and the bodies dropped where they'd stood. The two men hadn't even had time to draw their own weapons. 

"That was anticlimactic," Teldryn huffed, sheathing his sword. 

The room was smaller than the cavern, but still sizeable. There were four beds off to one side, and a table and chairs near the door where the dead men lay. On the back wall, there were two chests, a plain wooden one and an elaborate iron one. The room was dim, lit only by a few lanterns on the table and one near the sleeping area. 

"There's four beds, but only two people," Tabethys stated. "There could be more." 

Teldryn hopped from one foot to the other, swinging his arms around. "I  _ hope  _ so. I'm getting restless." 

Tabethys went to the chests. The elaborate one was locked, but that was nothing Tabethys's nimble lockpicking fingers couldn't solve. He opened the chest, and inside were precious gems, a very large stack of gold, and an enchanted Elven sword. Tabethys picked up the sword, the freezing cold metal sending a shiver down his spine even through his glove. He set it back down. Damn Nords and their love of the cold. Tabethys dumped the gold on the table and split it, half for himself and half for Teldryn. 

Once the gold was evenly divided, Tabethys strode over to the dead men. The Orc was wearing leather armor, the Nord banded iron. Tabethys reached inside the Nord's pockets. A dagger and a bottle of Skooma. Nothing worth taking. The Orc had gold, Skooma, a lockpick. Tabethys pocketed the gold and the lockpick, but sneered at the Skooma. Then something caught his eye--a piece of paper sticking out from under the Nord's waist sash. 

"Hey I found something," Tabethys called, pushing to his feet, holding the note out. 

Teldryn came over, a slight air of disinterest on his face. 

"'Don't forget to set aside some of the product for the Lady. If I find you taking more of the product than you're due, I'll have your hands cut off for theft. This is a business, not a charity,'" Tabethys read aloud. He huffed. "I guess we found a Skooma den." 

"Yeah. Pretty big operation from the looks of it," Teldryn said, looking out at the barrels. "What should we do?" 

That was a dilemma, wasn't it? Leave it, and some other gang would find it and sell it. But it's not like they could  _ tell _ anyone--who else would deal with it? The guards were useless. 

"Weird that it's connected to the Black-Briar Manor," Tabethys said. There was something there, but he just wasn't seeing it. He crossed his arms and knit his brow. 

"What is it?" Teldryn asked. 

"I don't know. Something. Maybe, nothing. But it's like I can  _ feel  _ that there's something here. I just…" 

Tabethys threw his hands up. "I just don't know!" 

"Maybe we should go back up, tell the others what we found," Teldryn suggested. 

Tabethys nodded. He stuffed the note in his pack, and they headed back out of the Skooma den. 

_______________

"I want to come with you." Romlyn stood in the doorway of his house, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a thin line. 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Tabethys repeated. "It's only been a week since you've been back. Going into the tunnels… well, it looks very similar to the Ratway." They had decided to go back into the tunnels, see if they could find Maven Black-Briar or any evidence that she had been there. It was suspected that the "Lady" referred to in the letter was Maven herself, but more evidence was needed. Teldryn and Tabethys were the obvious choices to go back; they could clearly handle themselves. 

"I'm not a fragile little butterfly!" Romlyn burst. "I can handle myself!" 

Tabethys stepped back, stunned by the outburst. 

"Sorry," Romlyn sighed. "But I'm just so damned tired of everyone treating me like… like I might fall apart any second. I  _ need _ this, Tabethys. I need to feel like I can  _ do  _ something, like I'm not weak. Please, don't make me beg." 

Tabethys relaxed his shoulders. "Okay. But you have to follow my lead. I have no idea what to expect." 

"Alright, I will." 

The two ascended the steps from the lower part of the city to the marketplace. It was dead this time of night, and only the faint light of the moons lit the city center. A stray guard wandered the place, but he looked out of it, like he was sleep walking. 

"Eerie," Romlyn breathed. 

They entered The Bee and Barb. It was as quiet as the outside. The patrons had all returned home or retreated to their inn rooms. 

"I'm gonna get Teldryn. I'll be right back." 

Romlyn leaned against the bar. Moonbeams casted long, ominous shadows on the floor. Dust bunnies and crumbs were strewn about on the wooden planks. An empty bottle of mead lay on a table, and another lay on the floor. A half-eaten apple pie and its crumbs littered a different table. The chairs were pulled out. The room looked like its daily routine had been disrupted, and it hadn't yet had time to adjust. No one had come by to clean it or care for it. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Romlyn came into this bar almost every day after working at the Meadery, had a drink with Keerava, and bitched with Niluva about Indaryn. He sighed and turned to face the bar area. It was in the same state of disarray as the rest of the room. 

What had happened? He'd set out to make Riften a better, safer place, but it seemed like all he'd done was make things worse. Keerava was dead, Talen-Jei might as well be, and Romlyn himself had been kidnapped and tortured in revenge. Maven Black-Briar was still out there, and judging from Tabethys's discovery, she was involved in much worse than just a corrupt meadery. Everything was falling apart. 

"Ready?" Tabethys chirped, coming up behind Romlyn. Romlyn turned. Tabethys was a sight to behold. His long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, swishing as he moved. His beard was trimmed close, accentuating his chiseled jaw. The blue Dunmeri outfit accentuated his strong frame, and the pale orange of the chitin bracers contrasted nicely with it. He had a soft look, but there was a firmness underneath, something that came from the kind of life where self-confidence is a necessity. 

"As I'll ever be," Romlyn replied. Tabethys turned on his heel with Teldryn right behind him. Romlyn skipped to walked side-by-side with Tabethys. They left the inn and began walking to the Black-Briar manor, which still sat hulking over the town, burned mastiffs piercing the clear night sky. 

"What kind of fighting skills do you have?" Tabethys asked. 

"I mostly use fire magic." 

Tabethys hummed in response. "Yes, it seems we have no shortage of fire mages on our little team. Teldryn and I are both adept at it." 

Romlyn fidgeted with the straps his leather cuirass. It was a gift from Grelka, not that she had said as much. He wasn't sure if he was  _ adept _ at fire magic, but he had been using it since before he could remember. 

"It's good you have armor. Do you know how to use it?" Tabethys asked. 

"Don't you just wear it?" 

Tabethys smiled. "Yeah, mostly. But you do still have to know the weak spots in it, like the parts where it buckles together, and make sure you keep those guarded. Like this." Tabethys took a stance, his weak point turned away from the imaginary assailant. Romlyn modeled Tabethys, one knee slightly bent, arms poised, ready to throw fireballs. 

"Not bad," Teldryn crowed from behind them. "Just make sure your feet are firmly planted. You don't want the force of your fire to knock you on your ass." 

Romlyn set his food behind him, sturdy. 

"Good. Now turn your back foot at a 45 degree angle," Teldryn instructed. 

Romlyn hopped a little, the stance completely foreign to him. "Like this?" 

"Yeah, that's close enough." 

Romlyn frowned. "That's reassuring." 

"Just make sure you think fast," Tabethys encouraged. "You'll have both of us watching your back, so I wouldn't be too worried." Tabethys put a firm hand on his shoulder. He smiled one of those winning smiles, the kind that made Romlyn forget how to speak. His knees wobbled a little. 

"You okay?" Tabethys asked. 

"Yep! Totally fine!" Romlyn chirped, breath strained. Gods, why did he have to be so awkward around beautiful men?

Teldryn shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. Tabethys raised an eyebrow, but didn't press. 

_______________

The cavern was so much bigger than Romlyn had thought it would be. It was dark, much darker than the Ratway, and it didn't smell nearly the same. It was almost a completely different experience. Almost. He had to bite the inside of cheek to keep his soul from drifting away from his body; his anxiety was on full alert, and not just because they had ventured into a secret crypt with a secret, huge stash of Skooma in dozens of barrels bigger than Romlyn's house. Not to mention the dead bodies of the Skooma dealers, or thugs, or whatever they were, just lying on the cold stone floor, necks slashed, blood spattered all over the ground. No, this was nothing to be anxious about at all. 

"We should stake out here," Tabethys said, plopping down on one of the beds, letting his pack drop to the floor. 

"Here?!" Romlyn yelped, voice rising. "I mean, uh, yeah, that's totally a sound idea. Totally." 

Teldryn sunk down onto the bed opposite Tabethys and removed his helmet, carefully setting it on the nightstand next to him. "There's four beds, only two dead guys. We gotta make sure there's at least  _ four _ dead guys." 

"What if the other two quit?" Romlyn asked. 

"Quit?" 

"Yeah. I mean, Maven, if she is their employer, is probably harsher to them than to us at the meadery, seeing as how this is all under the table employment, and there's nothing anyone can do if your illegal boss is a dick to you. If it's legal work, you can at least  _ attempt  _ to get some sort of recourse," Romlyn said. 

Tabethys humphed and stroked his beard. "You do have a point. Although, I don't think they quit. I was talking to Ungrien; he was scared to even say she was a bad employer when no one else was around. Said she sends the Dark Brotherhood after former employees. If there's any truth to that, building off your point, these guys would probably be more afraid of that than he was. At least he lived in a town." 

"Dark Brotherhood can get you anywhere. Doesn't matter if you're in a town or even a castle," Teldryn said. He was laying on the bed, not looking at either of them. He was just… staring at the ceiling. 

"True enough, I guess." Tabethys ran his hands through his ponytail, twisting the end of it. "I still think we oughta stay here for the night, just in case anyone  _ does _ come by." 

Romlyn sighed. "If you insist." 

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to come along!" Tabethys laughed and held his arms out. "This is a big part of the job. Just watching and waiting." 

"And waiting and watching," Teldryn added. 

"Well, I don't mind. It's better than what I was picturing." Romlyn set his bag down at the foot of the bed next to Tabethys's and sat down facing him. 

"Well," Teldryn said. "You two can take first watch. I'm taking a nap." Teldryn rolled over on his side and almost immediately started snoring. 

Romlyn looked at him, puzzled expression on his face. "Does he always fall asleep that fast?" 

"Oh yeah. Fuckin' weird, right?" Tabethys chuckled. "He wakes up about as fast, too." 

They sat in awkward silence, staring at nothing. Romlyn didn't know what to say. He used to feel so suave about picking men up, hitting on them. But something about Tabethys was different. Or maybe it was Romlyn; maybe  _ he  _ was what had changed. Romlyn sighed and laid back on the bed, arm under his head. 

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Tabethys asked. He laid on his side facing Romlyn, head propped up on his elbow. 

"Oh nothing," Romlyn said. 

"Come on. There's nothing else to do. Might as well talk," Tabethys coaxed. 

Romlyn looked over at him. "Alright. I was just thinking about how, well. I don't really know how to say it. I guess… I feel like there's two people. Two versions of me.  _ Before _ the Ratway and after. Most people remember me as the Before version, but I don't even recognize that person anymore." 

Tabethys blinked. "Well… what do you think's changed?" 

Romlyn sat up. "I mean, everything. How I see the world, how I move through life. I didn't use to fear walking out alone, but I could never go out alone again. There's precious few people I trust. I know I shouldn't… I shouldn't have a problem trusting people. I mean, practically the whole town came to my rescue. But I just… feel broken." 

"Hey," Tabethys sighed. He sat up and took Romlyn's hand in his. A jolt shot up Romlyn's arm. Tabethys's skin was warm, knuckles calloused. "You are  _ not  _ broken. Something horrible happened to you. It takes time to recover from these things. But you're not broken." 

Romlyn looked up from his hands, meeting Tabethys's eyes. His expression was soft: eyebrows slightly creased in the middle, eyes dewey, mouth pouting just so. His cheeks... were they flushed? 

"Romlyn?" Tabethys whispered. 

"Yeah?" Romlyn whispered back. 

Electricity crackled in the air. 

Tabethys's head jerked over to the entrance.

"Huh? Who's there?" Teldryn shot up out of bed, shoved his helmet over his head, yanked his sword out of its sheathe. 

A mage appeared, her green robes dull and muddy at the bottoms. 

Tabethys grabbed his sword and pulled fire into his hand. Romlyn stepped back and got into stance like Teldryn had showed him. 

"Who are you?" the mage asked, balls of purple-blue lightning in her hands. 

"I could ask you the same thing," Tabethys said loudly, sword poised. "We outnumber you, three to one. Lower your wards, and we'll do the same. We just want to talk." 

The mage stepped back, hackles raised. "Talk, eh? So, you break into my place of business, kill my men, threaten me, and expect me to just… back off and  _ talk _ ?" She laughed haughtily. "I don't think so." 

"Your funeral," Teldryn said. He shot a fireball at her, but she ducked and rolled, shooting lightning over her shoulder. Teldryn charged, sword drawn, and slashed down at her. Again, she dodged. Tabethys charged a fireball in his hand and flung it at her. It missed, exploding on the wall behind Teldryn and the mage. The mage turned to face Tabethys, her hair floating in the air. She screamed, her face contorting in rage. Raised her hands, lightning crackling all around her. Was she floating?!

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Romlyn panicked. He charged a fireball of his own, but it sputtered. Focus, focus, focus, Romlyn urged himself. He charged another fireball, and it crackled to life in his palms, the heat rolling off, warping the field of vision around it. He blasted the fireball with both hands. It flew, crackling, and hit the mage. 

She didn't even scream. All the energy in the room sucked back, making everyone's ears pop. The lifeless body fell to floor and slumped over. Romlyn stood, open-mouthed, gawking. 

"Damn!" Teldryn whistled, circling the burnt mage. "Which one of you shot that?" 

"Not me," Tabethys said, turning to face Romlyn. 

"Sorry!" Romlyn squeaked. 

"Sorry?!" Teldryn repeated. 

"That's one of the strongest fireballs I've ever  _ seen _ , Romlyn!" Tabethys exclaimed. He was bouncing, face beaming. 

"Oh. Really?" Romlyn was stunned. It hadn't seemed that strong to him. 

"Dude, you burned a hole  _ right _ through her body," Teldryn deadpanned, gesturing to the disfigured body. 

Romlyn grinned, pride swelling in him. "I know. It was self defense. Did you see her  _ float _ ?!" 

"I know right?! Who knew mages could do that!" Tabethys responded. 

"Yeah, no wonder she wasn't afraid to take us on," Teldryn commented. "Although what woulda been real great, Tabethys, is if you'd Shouted at her." Teldryn chuckled. "That's always a great one." 

Romlyn looked down at his hands. Tabethys's words echoed in his head:  _ One of the strongest fireballs I've ever seen. _ He could defend himself. Not only himself, but his friends, too. It wasn't cocky Teldryn or brave Tabethys who had taken out that mage; it was  _ him _ , Romlyn Dreth. If he could do that with no training at all… imagine how powerful he could be if he trained. 

The three settled back down, excitement and adrenaline from the fight waning. Teldryn lay back down his bed and went back to snoring. Tabethys sat down on his bed, his scaled horn helmet on the floor by the head of it. 

"So, what were you going to say to me earlier? Before the mage showed up?" Tabethys asked. 

Romlyn gulped. "I uh--I don't know. Sorry, I guess I forgot." He hadn't forgotten though. He wanted to tell him how much he admired him, how kind and beautiful he was. How much he wanted to kiss those perfect, pouty lips. 

Tabethys smiled. "No worries." 

He was so relaxed, just laying there on his bed, not a care in the world. "How do you stay so…" Romlyn gestured to Tabethys, "chill?" 

Tabethys cocked his head. "What do you mean?" 

"I dunno. I feel like every muscle in my body is on edge, just waiting for something to come through those doors. I can't just lay down and relax, much less take off my armor." Romlyn pulled at his fingers. 

"Huh. I don't know. I guess it's because I believe in my ability to kill anything before it can kill me. When you've taken down entire dragons, a lonely mage or two is nothing, especially not when I've got a partner." 

Partner? Oh by Azura, Teldryn and Tabethys were…? "Oh." Romlyn's voice felt detached, like it wasn't his own. "That must be nice." 

"You can get there, you know. It's not hard to learn." Tabethys leaned up. "You know, you show real talent with that fire of yours. Not everyone would be able to control it enough to make art with it the way you do. You should think about joining the Mages College up in Winterhold. They'd be lucky to have a student like you." 

"College?" Romlyn laughed. "No way am I smart enough for something like that!" 

Tabethys frowned. "Of course you are. That really was one of the most powerful fireballs I've ever seen. I can't do that, and I've had training from Master wizards." 

"Oh. Really?" Romlyn looked down at his hands again, not for the first time marveling at the power that lay dormant in him. Power that was his. "I just thought it was a Dunmer thing." 

"No," Tabethys said lowly, shaking his head. "Maybe for some of us it comes easier, but it's not… it's not like every Dunmer has an affinity for fire magic. We have to practice at it just like everyone else. And besides, our bond with fire is mostly defensive." 

"Yeah, I guess that's true." 

"But really. It might help, a change of scenery." Tabethys sat on the edge of his bed, knees almost touching Romlyn's. 

"Maybe. But I can't leave Riften." Romlyn put his hands in his lap, edging them closer to Tabethys. 

"Why not?" 

"I don't know. I've got responsibilities. They need me. And besides, I've lived here my whole life. I don't think I'd like it anywhere else." 

"But how do you know?" 

"What?" 

"How do you know you wouldn't like it anywhere else?" Tabethys put his hands in his lap. "If you've never left Riften, you can't possibly know there's nowhere else you'd rather be." 

Romlyn didn't say anything for a moment. "Maybe I'll try it.  _ After  _ Maven is dead." 

Tabethys laughed. "That's fair." 

Silence fell around them. Somewhere off in the distance, water dripped. Bat wings fluttered. A small draft blew in, cooling Romlyn's ankles. But other than those small noises, it was dead silent. 

"Have you ever dated anyone before?" Tabethys asked suddenly. 

"What?" Romlyn sputtered. 

"I just want to know you. What's your story?" 

"My story? Don't really have one. Born to a refugee from Red Mountain who used Skooma to cope, lived in Riften all my life. That's pretty much it. As far as dating… me and Tythis had a thing. It wasn't--well, he's just not my type I guess," Romlyn said. 

"Oh?" Tabethys raised an eyebrow. "Do tell me more. Did you fuck? What's he like in bed?" 

"Tabethys!" Romlyn gasped. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. Lucky for you, I'm no gentleman." 

Teldryn snored loudly, the noise bellowing through the stone chamber. Tabethys and Romlyn looked at each other, stifling giggles. It didn't work though, and they both burst into laughter. Tabethys inched closer to Romlyn. 

"He's a top," Romlyn said finally. 

"Oh! I knew it!" Tabethys giggled. "Is he good?" 

Romlyn shrugged. "I don't really have anything to compare it to. But yeah. Yeah I guess so." 

Tabethys chuckled. "If he was really good, you'd know. You wouldn't need anyone else to compare it to." 

"Well, what about you?" Romlyn asked. 

"What about me?" 

"Who's the last person you were with?" 

Tabethys blew air out of his mouth, cheeks puffed out. "Geez, I don't think I remember his name. It was a fling, a one time thing. We met at a bar in Whiterun, he took me up to his room. He was gone the next morning." 

"Damn." 

"Yeah. It was the one and only time I've ever done a one night stand," Tabethys said sheepishly. "I'm too... " He looked at Romlyn, a quizzical expression on his face. "I'm too soft for that, I guess." 

"There's no shame in that," Romlyn said. Tabethys, soft? He hadn't seemed the soft type. 

Teldryn groaned, and slowly sat up. "Y'all just don't shut  _ up _ do ya?" 

"Oh please," Tabethys snarked, waving him off. "Your snoring has kept me awake  _ plenty _ of nights." 

"I don't sore," Teldryn retorted. 

"Oh yes you do," Tabethys argued. 

Teldryn jerked his gaze to the entrance and held up a hand. "Someone's coming." 

Tabethys stood, donned his helmet, and grabbed his sword. "Take them alive this time," he whispered. "We need to question them." 

Teldryn moved silently to the door, poised on the side of it. Romlyn ducked behind the bed. 

"Marjorie!" a gruff voice shouted. "You get those new samples yet?!" A small bosmer approached the entrance, fine robes flattering his sharp, cut figure. "Marjorie, come on. The shipment has to go out!" 

He stepped into the room, looking the other way from Teldryn. Swiftly, Teldryn grabbed the mer by his neck and pushed him to the ground, knife at his throat. 

The mer yelped, yellow eyes wide at the sight of the chitin warrior.

Tabethys walked up and knelt by the mer. "Hello," he said, tone even. 

"H-Hi," the mer stuttered. "Let me go, at once, a-and you can be rewarded. We have Skooma. Or gold, if that's what you desire." 

"Save your whining," Teldryn spat, digging the knife harder into the mer's throat. 

"Now, now," Tabethys tsked. He leaned in closer to the mer, and spoke so softly Romlyn almost couldn't hear him. "We just have a few things we need to know. You tell us what we want to know, you get to walk out of here, simple as that." 

Something snapped inside Romlyn. The room morphed. It was like he was looking down on himself from outside his body. He couldn't feel the bed beneath his fingers; all he could feel was searing pain in his stomach. He watched as he doubled over, unaware that he was screaming in agony. Everything spun. The room blurred, and nothing made sense anymore. 

Hands pressed into his back, pushed him up off the floor, touching him, touching him, touching him. He reached out blindly, grabbing for anything. Without thinking, he lit a fire in his palm, aimed, and shot. He felt the flame leap from his hand. Shouting. Romlyn fell to the ground, the cold, firm ground beneath him, and rocked, tears silently streaming from his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've had some family issues going on, and I just wanted to take some time to savor the story, make sure it was really as good as it could be and not rushed. Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabethys and his comrades make a discovery, and the Jarl gets involved. But when a night of drinking goes too far, Tabethys has some things to reconsider.

"What in Azura's name was that all about??" Teldryn demanded. "You made him get away!" 

"Teldryn," Tabethys warned. Teldryn threw his hands up and stormed off. Tabethys turned to Romlyn, who was still laying on the floor. "Are you okay?" 

Romlyn blubbered incoherently. 

"It's okay," Tabethys whispered, smoothing Romlyn's back. Romlyn winced as if he'd been burned. Tabethys removed his hand. "I'll just sit here with you." 

He didn't know what was happening to Romlyn, but he knew it was not something Romlyn could control. Something caused this. He assumed it was related to the Ratway. The Ratway. Tabethys almost wished those skeevers weren't dead just so he could kill them again. 

"The room is a nice temperature at least," Tabethys said, attempting to sound calming. He looked down at Romlyn. He was still now, no longer shaking, but he was still balled up, eyes wide, unblinking. "I expected it to be cold, since there's no hearth down here." 

Romlyn blinked slowly. 

"I guess the layers of dirt on top of the tunnel make for pretty good insulation," Tabethys continued. He watched as Romlyn relaxed, little by little. Talking seemed to help. So Tabethys kept talking. He talked about nothing in particular, and when he ran out of little nothings to talk about, he sang. The only songs he knew were Nord nursery rhymes, but it seemed to help, so he kept at it, despite how embarrassingly off-key he sounded. 

"Thank you," Romlyn whispered after the third nursery rhyme. 

"Don't mention it," Tabethys said. He pushed to his feet and held out a hand. Romlyn took it and stood, legs wobbly. "You good?" 

Romlyn nodded. 

"Let's go find Teldryn and get out of here." 

They left the room through the doorway the mage and the Bosmer had entered from. It was another tunnel leading further away from the crypt to another crypt room. The coffins were empty, and there were several lifeless Draugr laying on the ground. They looked long dead, though, and much to Tabethys's disappointment, didn't have any loot on them. 

"Do you have to check  _ every _ dead body we come across?" Romlyn groaned. 

"Sure do," Tabethys said. "How do you think I afford to keep paying Talen-Jei for a room?" 

They came up on a large open room, filled with more empty coffins and more twice-dead Draugr. There was a fireplace in the middle of the room. It was out, but by the looks of it, had only been out a few hours. 

"I wonder whose this was," Romlyn said. 

Tabethys pushed on, turning the corner. Just ahead, with his back to them, was Teldryn. He had his hands on his hips, and he was looking down at a table. 

"Hey," Tabethys said, relief washing over him. "What'd you find?" 

"Oh, just this." Teldryn moved aside so Tabethys could see. It was a ledger, some bowls of moon sugar, and a few different colored bottles. 

Tabethys picked up a bottle a sniffed it. "Mead." 

Romlyn took the bottle from his hand and took a drink. " _ Black-Briar _ mead." 

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," Teldryn cautioned. 

"Why not?" 

"Well, if this is right," he gestured to the ledger, "there's Skooma in that." 

Romlyn spat, spraying the wall with Black-Briar mead. " _ Skooma?! _ " 

Teldryn pointed at the ledger. Clipped to it was a recipe for Black-Briar mead: honey, water, yeast, and… Skooma. Romlyn set down the bottle. The world tipped around him, distorting. Skooma. He'd been selling Skooma, getting people he didn't even know hooked on it. He'd been hooked on it himself, just like his mother… 

"At least now we have something concrete to bring against Maven. People all over Skyrim have been drinking this, totally unaware that it's spiked," Tabethys murmured. 

Fire burned inside Romlyn. "She took me for a fool," Romlyn said under his breath. 

"She took  _ everyone _ for a fool," Teldryn responded. 

"I have to go to Ivarstead, tell Wilhelm. We have to get the word out!" Romlyn was frantic, heart pounding in his ears. 

"Okay, we can do that, but first we have to get the authority of the Jarl behind us. If Jarl Laila puts her weight behind it, people will be less likely to dismiss us," Tabethys said. 

They made quick work of checking every chest, cabinet, and drawer in the room, then Tabethys put the ledger and recipe in his pack, slung it over his shoulder, and they were off. When they emerged into the dilapidated Black-Briar manor, Tabethys breathed deep. It was good to feel fresh air in his lungs again. The stars twinkled in the night sky, and the first snowfall of the season drifted gently down. They wasted no time crossing the city center and climbing the steps to Mistveil Keep. Tabethys knocked on the door, and Anuriel, the Bosmer steward, opened it briskly. 

"The Jarl is not taking visitors at this hour," Anuriel sniffed. She moved to close the door, but Tabethys blocked it with his body. 

"This is urgent," he said. "The Dragonborn needs to speak with Jarl Laila at once." 

"Dragonborn?" Anuriel scoffed. 

Tabethys gestured to himself. "Yes." 

Anuriel blinked, recognition slowly washing over her. "Dragonborn… you saved us from that horrible dragon last summer!" 

Tabethys nodded, and Anuriel stepped aside, muttering her apologies and promising to wake the Jarl at once. 

The entry hall was tall with elaborate stone workings on the walls. There was a hearth in the center of the room, bathing everything in soft, golden light. Three tables were pushed together in a U shape around the hearth, and plenty of food, fine dishes, and wine were laid out on the table. At the front of the room, there was a platform and a throne. On the wall behind the throne, purple tapestries beared the symbol for The Rift in golden thread: two swords crossed over each other. 

The Jarl emerged from the archway behind the throne, auburn hair held back from her face by an intricate circlet. Her expression was withered; deep lines creased her forehead and encircled her mouth. 

"You've been causing quite a stir in my city, Dragonborn," the Jarl said, taking her seat at the throne. "I was wondering when I would have the distinction to meet you in my court."

Tabethys approached, Romlyn and Teldryn standing behind him on either side. "Apologies, my Lady. It has not been my intention to cause trouble, only to help the citizens of Riften." 

The Jarl hummed. "What can I do for you at this hour, then?" 

"My comrades and I have made a discovery, and we felt it necessary to bring it to you at once." Tabethys set his pack down on the table behind him and rifled through it, pulling out the ledger. He swiped the recipe from it and handed it to the steward, who inspected it before handing it to the Jarl. 

The Jarl took the note in her hands and read over it, one eyebrow raised. "What is this?" 

"The recipe for Black-Briar mead." 

Both of the Jarl's eyebrows shot up at that. She read over the recipe again. "How did you come by this discovery?" 

"There are some tunnels beneath what is left of the Black-Briar manor," Tabethys explained. "My comrades and I had it on good authority that Maven Black-Briar was involved in criminal activity and still alive, so we investigated. During our investigation, we found this ledger, with that recipe inside. My partner here, Romlyn Dreth, was a former associate of Maven Black-Briar. He taste tested the mead sample and identified it as authentic Black-Briar mead before even reading the recipe." 

The Jarl looked at Romlyn then back to Tabethys. "And how do I know you aren't making all this up? Maven has been a generous associate of the city for quite some time. These claims are serious and will cause quite a scandal, if indeed they are true." 

Teldryn scoffed but didn't say anything. Tabethys held up a hand to quiet him. "We can take you there. You can see for yourself. Bring a party with you, if you so desire." 

The Jarl pursed her lips and leaned back in her throne. The steward leaned over and whispered something to the Jarl. Tabethys straightened his tunic and pulled at the ends of his scarf. He really wished he had taken the time to wash up before approaching the Jarl, but it was a bit late for that now. 

"Okay," the Jarl finally spoke. "We will meet here, come first light of the morning. My housecarl, Unmid, will be my eyes and ears, as regrettably, it is not safe for me to leave my Keep." She gestured to a serious looking Nord man. He had a red crest of hair and beard, and his Elven armor gleamed. He squared his shoulders when the Jarl said his name. 

Romlyn gulped. Teldryn scoffed. 

"Okay," Tabethys said. "But I assure you, my lady, we are not lying." 

"For your sake, you'd better hope not," Unmid threatened, his voice deep and gruff. 

_______________

"Marjorie, come on. The shipment has to go out!" Fargan shouted. That mage was useless. She was always lost in thought, shirking her duties. If she wanted to make it in the Skooma business, she would need to get her head out of the clouds. Perhaps he would give her a stern talking-to when this shift was over. Fargan stepped into the room and stopped cold. The green robes of his employee covered her limp, bloodsoaked body. 

Before he could even process that someone had killed Marjorie, Fargan was thrown to the ground, and a man in dirty, patched up armor was straddling him, a very sharp knife to his throat. Oh by the Nine, not this! A Dark Elf with piercing, inhuman violet eyes approached and knelt beside him. 

"Hello," the mer said, his voice sickeningly sweet. 

"H-Hi," Fargan stuttered. "Let me go, at once, a-and you can be rewarded. We have Skooma. Or gold, if that's what you desire." This job was not worth losing his life over. He would be on the run. Maven Black-Briar would certainly send someone to punish him if he gave up her product, and the Skooma dealers would certainly come for him, too, but it couldn't be worse than being dead! 

"Now, now," the purple-eyed Dark Elf said. "We just have a few things we need to know. You tell us what we want to know, you get to walk out of here, simple as that." 

Information, now that was much easier to give away. No one had to know  _ he  _ was the one who gave it. He could just blame Marjorie. She was dead now anyways, so it wasn't like he would be putting her in danger. "What do you need to know?" 

Screaming wrang out. The brute's grip loosened, and the purple-eyed Dark Elf stood. Fargan wasted no time: he leapt to his feet and ran. Blindly, he sprinted out of the office, down the hall, into the crypt. Worthless job. Putting his own life at risk. 

He approached a dead end, pulled a chain ring, and took a moment to catch his breath. Amazingly, neither of the lowlifes had chased him. He stepped inside the dark room and pulled the chain ring on the other side. The trap door raised, concealing Fargan. He walked down the corridor, mind flitting about. What would he tell Maven? The truth? He hadn't given up anything, so there should be no reason to lie. It wasn't his fault this had happened. But would she see it that way? Fargan gulped. 

The matriarch sat at a table, pouring over some notes, writing vigorously. 

"Lady Maven," Fargan greeted, bowing politely. 

"Speak elf," Maven barked. "Those samples had better be coming soon. Your people should know better than to keep me waiting." 

"About that…" 

Maven's head shot up, eyebrows knit. 

"Well, it seems the samples won't be coming, my Lady. See, there has been… an occurrence. Some Dark Elf hooligans found the supply and killed my entire crew, including Marjorie." Fargan shifted his weight, forcing himself to hold Maven's gaze. It wasn't his fault; it wasn't his fault. 

Maven tsked. "I had expected more from you, Fargan." She pushed to her feet. "I suppose I will take my business elsewhere." 

"Now, now," Fargan sputtered. "Let's not be hasty. This still has the potential to be a  _ very _ lucrative partnership. Just… give me a moment. I will contact some associates, hire some muscle. They'll be cleared out in no time. This is only a temporary setback." 

"Setbacks cost me money, elf, and I don't like losing money." Maven crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. 

"Give me just two days. My Skooma is the best on the market. I guarantee you won't find a higher grade," Fargan said. It was true; no one made Skooma like he did. No one had a  _ connection  _ to the materials the way he did. 

"Two days. Not a moment longer." Maven pointed at him and then walked off. 

Fargan waited until she was out of earshot, and then he collapsed onto the chair, wringing his hands. 

_______________

Tabethys, Romlyn, and Teldryn sat in Tabethys's room at The Bee and Barb, passing around a bottle of ale. Teldryn's ears and cheeks were flushed, and he was feeling warm and content. He wasn't drunk enough to be slurring his words, but the alcohol softened the world around him, which was good, because Romlyn and Tabethys were seated  _ very _ close to each other on the bed, knees touching, elbows bumping. There was plenty of room on the bed, and there was an extra chair, and the floor. They didn't have to sit so close together. Teldryn scowled as jealousy washed pleasant ale fog away. 

"...so there I was, just gallivanting along to Morrowind. I'd scarcely gotten out of Skyrim when I got caught in an Imperial trap along with some Stormcloak soldiers," Tabethys was saying, gesturing animatedly. "And would you believe it, but Ulfric Stormcloak was captured right along with me!" 

Romlyn gasped and took another drink from the bottle. He looked at Tabethys, eyes sparkling, utterly enraptured. Teldryn could hardly focus on Tabethys's story. It was like there was barbed wire in his chest, gripping his heart. The alcohol wasn't helping anymore, but he didn't want to stop drinking. 

"They were gonna execute me, those damned Imperial bastards, but then a dragon swooped down. Later I would learn that it was Alduin himself. I bet he was pissed when he realized he saved the one mortal who could kill him!" Tabethys laughed. That laugh sent Teldryn soaring. He never wanted it to end. If he could hear that laugh every day of the rest of his life, he would be happy. 

Tabethys threw his arm around Romlyn's shoulders, and Teldryn felt something deflate in him. He watched as Romlyn leaned his head on Tabethys's shoulder and looked up at him with bashful eyes. Teldryn scowled and took another drink, tearing his eyes away. So, Tabethys was with the nervous thief now, completely ignoring their kiss, even though Tabethys was the one who'd kissed  _ him.  _

Teldryn caught Romlyn's eye, and Romlyn gulped and scooted away from Tabethys. Teldryn rolled his eyes. Tabethys continued telling his story, completely oblivious of the silent conversation happening right under his nose. 

"I still can't believe I made it out of there alive, you know?" Tabethys took another drink. "Helgen is completely destroyed now. Overrun by bandits, is what I heard." 

Teldryn stared at Romlyn, his gaze intense. Romlyn held his gaze, unblinking, unwavering. 

"It was like I was -- hey, what are you two doing?" Tabethys laughed. "Are you having a staring contest? Oh! Let me take on the winner!" 

Romlyn broke concentration, laughing too hard to keep from blinking. Teldryn blinked, wetting his eyes. 

"Oh! You lose!" Tabethys laughed, his words a little slurred. He wiggled himself over to sit directly in front of Teldryn, closed his eyes, then opened them. "Okay, I'm ready." 

Teldryn looked into Tabethys's eyes, taking in every detail. There was a thin, almost invisible, stripe of dark blue on the outside of his irises, and a swirling field of red surrounding his pupils. His eyelashes were long and curled at the tips. The light of the candles reflected in his eyes, creating a sparkle and bloom affect. Teldryn could get lost in those eyes. He felt himself drifting, swaying gently. Maybe that was just the ale. 

Tabethys's eyes started watering. "Blink dammit!" he shouted at Teldryn. 

Teldryn smiled but kept his eyes open. "I could do this all night." 

"No magic!" 

"I'm not using magic," Teldryn said, his tone even. He took a breath. Then, "Your eyes are so beautiful. I'd never want to look away if I didn't have to." 

"Well you're gonna have to because you'll  _ blink! _ " Tabethys said, straining to keep his eyes open. 

Teldryn smiled. "I'm not blinking." 

A tear dripped from Tabethys's eye, and he blinked it away. "SHIT!" 

Teldryn leaned back, satisfied, and took another drink of ale. "Told ya." 

A smile flashed across Tabethys's face, making Teldryn's heart skip a beat. Then he caught a glimpse of Romlyn's hand snaked around Tabethys's waist and a sickly chill spread from his belly to the tips of his ears. He gripped the bottle in his first hard, took another drink. 

"Are you two fuckin' or what?" The words were out of Teldryn's mouth before he could stop himself. 

"What?" Romlyn coughed. 

"Excuse me?" Tabethys demanded. "What gives you any implication of that, or even the idea that it's something you can just  _ ask _ someone?!" 

Teldryn gestured to the two of them, pressed against each other, legs touching. "Well I thought since you have no problems being all over each other right in front of me that you might want to share with the class." 

"I should go. I'm sorry," Romlyn muttered, standing up frantically. 

"Yeah, yeah. Tuck your tail between your legs an' run, coward," Teldryn spat. Romlyn looked at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, then broke the glance and ducked out of the room. 

Tabethys huffed. "I think you've had too much to drink. What is  _ wrong _ with you?" 

Teldryn scoffed. "What's wrong with  _ me? _ You're the one who kissed me and won't even gimme the time of day!" 

Tabethys sat there, mouth open, eyebrows raised. 

"What, you don't have anything to say about that?" 

"I was… Teldryn, I'm sorry. I wasn't in my right mind." 

Teldryn scoffed again. "Yeah because kissing me is  _ so  _ insane." 

"No! That's not--That's not what I meant." 

"Yeah?" Teldryn stood, raised his voice. "Then what  _ do _ you mean Tabethys? I'm sick of tryin' to read you! Jus' tell me what you want!" 

Tabethys winced. "I think you should leave. Sleep it off, Teldryn. We can talk about it in the morning." 

"No. I wanna talk about it  _ now _ . You an' I both know you'll just brush me off in the morning." Teldryn crossed his arms. 

"I'm not talking to you when you're like this. Leave. Now." Tabethys stood and pointed out the door. 

"No! We're  _ talking _ about this!" 

"Fine!" Tabethys shouted back. "You want to know how I really feel about you?! I think you're a disgusting, crass, rude, stubborn  _ jerk! _ You're so concerned about yourself, you never even  _ think  _ about what anyone else wants or needs!" 

Teldryn scoffed. "That is not true! I-I think about what other people want. I'm just not a pushover!" 

Tabethys put his hands on his hips. "Name  _ one _ time you did something that wasn't purely selfish." 

"I left. When you kissed me, I left. I could have taken advantage of you, but I didn't." 

"Am I supposed to  _ thank  _ you for that!?" Tabethys's voice rose three octaves. "'Oh jee, Teldryn, dearest, thank you  _ so _ much for not taking advantage of me during a vulnerable time!'  _ Please _ ." 

"No! I didn't ask you to  _ thank _ me for that. You asked when I thought of someone other than myself. It's you! It's always you! I'm always putting your needs above my own, and  _ you're _ the one who never thinks of  _ me _ ." Teldryn stepped closer to Tabethys, arms raised. "Why should I risk my life for you, when you don't give a  _ shit _ about me!?" 

Tabethys stepped back. "You're my employee! I hired you to risk your life for me!" 

"Yeah? Did you hire me to fuck you, too? Did you hire me to kiss you and suck your dick and then not get even a little jealous when you're all over that… that  _ fetcher! _ That  _ coward!" _ Teldryn was shouting now, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face. 

"Don't talk about him like that! You wouldn't know the first thing about what he's going through." 

"Maybe I do! How would you know? You never ask me about my life! I listen to you blab on and on about your sad, sad story, but you never once asked me where I'm from, who I am, or anything! You just use me when it suits you!" Teldryn turned his back to Tabethys. "You think I'm the one who doesn't care about anyone at all, fine. But it makes you a hypocrite, because you don't give a single shit about anyone, either." 

Teldryn turned back to face Tabethys. He was backed up against the wall, eyes wide. 

"You don't know the first thing about love, do you?" Teldryn continued. "You just blame all your insecurities and your standoffishness on your shitty childhood. Well guess what,  _ Dragonborn _ , we've all had shitty childhoods. I don't think a single kid in Tamriel has had a perfect childhood. My parents were both  _ murdered _ right in front of my face when I was sixteen years old. I lived with my uncle who would have rather had a case of sujamma than a nephew to give a shit about. I learned to kill to survive, and I was recruited by the Morag Tong. Their training was designed to destroy people's souls, make them into ruthless killing machines." 

Tabethys's face paled. 

" _ Love _ ," Teldryn spat, "isn't something I've ever understood either, but at least I don't pretend to like you do. At least I'm honest. You're so full of shit, actin' like you're big and tough, but I look in your eyes, and I see what you hide from everyone else: you're just as scared as the rest of us. Well you know what, Tabethys? That doesn't give you the excuse to jus' walk into someone's life, make them care about you, an' then shove them away when you get bored. What, because I don't need to be  _ fixed _ like that fetcher, I'm not good enough for you?" 

Teldryn laughed, sharp and dangerous, a broken mirror for a voice. "No, fuck this. I'm going back to Solstheim. You're not worth this shit." Teldryn threw his bottle of ale on the ground, and it shattered. He huffed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

The Bee and Barb dining room was empty and dark. The candles were all blown out. Teldryn gritted his teeth and went into his own room. It was as dark and empty as the rest of the inn, with only a sliver of moonlight filtering through the fogged window. Teldryn grabbed his pack, shoved his belongings in, and staggered out of the inn. 

Stupid Tabethys with his stupid eyes and his stupid face. He wasn't worth the trouble. Fighting Nords, killing Draugr, almost drowning even? And for what? Some guy who couldn't even see what was right in front of his face? 

The night was cold, and wispy clouds floated through the sky, framing the moon. Teldryn's breath fogged in front of his face. He shivered, put on his helmet and goggles, and pulled his scarf up to cover his nose. 

"Fucking Skyrim," he muttered. What had he been thinking, coming to this frozen wasteland? He pushed the heavy gates of the city open and started down the trail to the stables. 

The carriage driver looked down at Teldryn, his ugly Nord face making Teldryn feel queasy. "Need a ride?" he asked, thick Nord accent distorting his consonants. Tabethys's face flashed in Teldryn's mind; his own voice sounded like this Nord's. He shoved the thought out of his head. 

Teldryn nodded. 

"Where do you want to go?" the driver asked. 

"Windhelm," Teldryn answered, handing over 20 gold pieces. 

"Climb in back, and we'll be off." 

Teldryn circled around the back of the horse carriage, feet heavy, vision distorted. Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought he did. He pulled himself up into the carriage, and the driver started off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we've reached the midpoint! It only gets crazier from here, so strap in. Thanks for joining me on this rollercoaster ride :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Solstheim from Riften is long and arduous, but it leaves room for self discovery.

Tabethys stood, mouth open, tears streaming down his face, starting at where Teldryn had just been standing. His own words echoed in his mind,  _ You're just my employee _ . How could he have said that to Teldryn? That wasn't true. But it was too late. Teldryn was gone, gone for good this time. 

A pang struck Tabethys's heart. Teldryn had mentioned  _ love, _ of all things. Did Teldryn love Tabethys? 

Tabethys shoved his palms into his eyes and slumped down onto his bed, a groan squeezing itself from his lips. Oh boy, he'd fucked up. He'd fucked up real bad. Maybe if he caught Teldryn and apologized, he wouldn't leave. Tabethys pushed to his feet and stumbled to the door, shoved it open, and ran out of the Bee and Barb. He looked around. 

"Teldryn!" he called, the word feeling too big for his mouth. The town swam in front of his eyes, and he could feel himself wavering. He'd had way too much to drink. Teldryn was nowhere to be seen. 

Tabethys rubbed his forehead and slapped himself a few times. "Come on, come  _ on!" _

He stepped forward, but he didn't shift his weight in time and the cobblestones smacked his cheek. Too drunk to stand, too drunk to keep one of his only friends from running off. Useless. Tabethys's eyelids suddenly felt very heavy, and he was too exhausted to fight them. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless, drunken stupor. 

_______________ 

"Too much to drink last night, eh?" 

Tabethys moaned. His head felt like it was being split in half by an axe. He took a peek, and the blinding light of the early morning sun stabbed into his eyes, causing him to cry out. 

"Here, take this," Marise said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. She handed him a cup of water and some crushed up roots. Tabethys took the root and swallowed the water greedily. 

"What time is it?" he mumbled. 

"Early still. Don't worry, you didn't miss anything yet." 

Tabethys rolled over onto his back and pushed himself up. Everything was too much. He swayed. 

"Don't puke. You need to digest that root." 

"I'm trying not to," Tabethys groaned. 

Finally, the root kicked in, and the nausea began to subside. Tabethys huffed and rubbed his forehead. "That's much better. Thank you, Marise." 

She nodded. "Don't mention it. So, last night?" 

"Yeah. I drank way too much." 

"Alone?" She raised an eyebrow. 

Oh, she wanted to gossip. "No. Romlyn and Teldryn joined me. Romlyn left early though, then Teldryn and I got into it." Tabethys paused. "He left." 

Marise's eyebrows shot up. "Left? Left where?" 

"Back to Solstheim." 

"Well you have to go get him! We need him!" Marise shouted. 

Tabethys pushed to his feet. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. He was pretty pissed." He walked away, back to The Bee and Barb. He needed a nap. 

Marise followed him. "No offense, but he's one of the best fighters we have. Maven's still out there.  _ We need him _ ." 

Tabethys waved her off. "We'll be fine." 

"No, we won't! I know you're the Dragonborn and all, but we need more than just one person. Mjoll can fight, but she's not the best--although don't tell her I said that. The rest of us? We have enthusiasm, but we aren't trained mercenaries like Teldryn. You have to go get him and make him come back!" Marise insisted. 

Tabethys looked at her, broken. "I don't know how." 

"What happened?" she asked. 

Tabethys sighed. "It's probably best if I don't tell you." 

Marise raised an eyebrow. 

"We had a fight. It got nasty. He left. That's all there is to it." 

"Well, do you regret what you said or did?" 

Tabethys huffed. "Of course I do. I was drunk, not thinking clearly." 

"Do you care about him?" 

"Yes." Tabethys scraped the tip of his boot along the doorjamb. 

"Then go tell him that! Apologize. Earn his trust back." Marise grabbed Tabethys's arm and pulled him out of the inn, shoved him towards the town gate. 

"I have to grab my things, Marise!" Tabethys said. 

She dropped his arm and patted it gently. "It'll be okay. Just speak from the heart." 

Tabethys smiled weakly and went to his room. He stopped outside his door, looking at Teldryn's door across the hall. He sighed and pushed open his own, throwing some travel essentials in his pack. He took a long look at his room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. 

Ah, fuck. The Jarl was expecting him and Teldryn to lead her into the crypt. He had to weasel his way out of this. He scribbled a hasty note: 

_ Esteemed Jarl Laila,  _

_ It is with regret that I must postpone our appointment for today. I  _

_ have come down with an illness and would hate to infect you with it.  _

_ The Nine permitting, I should be back to my old self within a week.  _

_ Respectfully,  _

_ Tabethys  _

"The Nine permitting," he mumbled. It was a good touch. The Jarl and her court were Stormcloak allies, and he didn't want to offend them. He needed them on his side. A subtle prayer to their own god, Talos, would hopefully soothe any bruised egos. 

He slung his pack over his back and put the letter in the inn's mailbox, leaving swiftly before anyone could ask any questions. He was halfway to the front gate when he heard his name. 

"Tabethys, wait!" Romlyn cried, running to catch up with him. 

Tabethys turned and smiled. Romlyn seemed better than he had in days. Although he looked a little rough around the edges, like maybe he hadn't slept enough last night, he seemed lighter, like somehow, he was less tormented. 

"Hey," Tabethys said. 

"I'm coming with you," Romlyn burst. 

"Do you even know where I'm going?" Tabethys grabbed the strap of his pack and rested his weight on one foot. 

"Marise told me you're going after Teldryn, that he left." 

"Romlyn, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to come. I don't even think  _ I  _ should be going. Our fight was pretty nasty, and Teldryn said some…  _ things  _ about you. If you come, it could make him feel defensive." 

Romlyn crossed his arms. "Well, you can't go alone. Maven has eyes and ears everywhere, and she knows you're powerful. If you go alone, you'll be at risk." 

Tabethys chuckled. "I can kill dragons. What's a couple of mercenaries?" 

Romlyn tapped his foot. "I'm not staying here while you go gallivanting across the countryside alone." 

"Okay, okay. Let's get going then," Tabethys conceded, heading toward the front gate. 

"We shouldn't take the carriage," Romlyn said. "The driver is rumored to report the comings and goings of the city to Maven Black-Briar. If she hears of us  _ and  _ Teldryn leaving, she would know Riften was defenseless." 

"What, you want us to  _ walk _ to Windhelm?" Tabethys said incredulously. "That could take days!" 

"Would you rather we get there, get Teldryn, only to come home to a city under Maven's rule or worse, completely sacked?" 

Tabethys pursed his lips. He knew Romlyn was right. "Okay, so how do we leave then?" 

"There's an exit in the back by the docks. If we time it right, we can slip out without the guards noticing." 

Romlyn led the way back through the city to a door nestled between the Black-Briar Meadery and The Scorched Hammer, Balimund's blacksmith shop. Tabethys had walked past it several times, but he'd never even noticed it was there. They slipped through, into the bustle of the docks. Romlyn picked up a bucket of fish and walked nonchalantly down the dock. The coast was clear. Romlyn dove into the water and swam to the shore. Tabethys plunged in after him, the early morning sun glinting off the water, casting rays of golden light into its green depths. 

_______________

The sun was setting in the West, casting brilliant hues of pink and orange across the sky. Tabethys's feet ached, and he was exhausted. 

"Can we stop?" Romlyn pleaded. 

"Please," Tabethys agreed. He strode off the dirt path into a clearing in the forest. A large stone boulder blocked the view from the path to the clearing. "How about here?" 

Romlyn plopped down on the ground, dropping his bag. He leaned back and laid in the grass, arm behind his head. "This'll work." 

Tabethys collected fallen branches for firewood and started a quick little fire with his magicka. He unfurled his bedroll by the fire across from Romlyn amd took some dried horker meat from his pack to munch on. 

"This isn't so bad, right?" Romlyn said after a while. He sat up and grabbed an apple and some bread from his own pack. 

"No, it's quite nice, actually," Tabethys agreed. "Especially for this time of year. Autumn is my favorite season." 

The weather was clear, just a slight breeze. The only trouble was that it was getting cold as winter nipped at the heels of autumn. He popped the last bite of dried horker in his mouth, then climbed into his bedroll and turned on his side.

"Well, goodnight." 

"Wait," Romlyn said. 

Tabethys leaned up and looked at him. 

"Aren't you gonna tell me what happened between you and Teldryn?" 

Tabethys pursed his lips. "Better if I don't." He picked up a fallen leaf, splitting it along the fibers that ran its length. 

"Hey," Romlyn said, gently. "You can't just bottle everything up. It's not healthy. You have to let it out, take it from me." 

"Bottling it up is my thing. I know I'm open about the circumstances of my upbringing, but that's because that's not raw anymore. The other stuff, the stuff I don't talk about… well, there's a lot. If I told you…" Tabethys let his voice trail off. 

"If you told me what? I wouldn't like you anymore?" Romlyn scoffed. "I don't think there's anything you could tell me that could turn me away from you. As a friend, as whatever you need me to be." 

"Whatever I need you to be?" Tabethys repeated. "What does that mean?" 

"It means... " Romlyn swallowed. "I like you, Tabethys. I like you a lot." 

Tabethys blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his tongue. 

"You don't have to say anything." Romlyn twisted a strand of his long, white-blond hair. "I know there's a lot going on right now. I don't even know what I would want you to say or what I would want to do from here. I just… well, you never know what a day can bring. I figured I would just tell you while I still could." 

Tabethys sat up, facing Romlyn, the fire crackling quietly between them. "Romlyn, I… I don't know what to say. I, uh, why?" Tabethys stammered. 

"Why? Because you're an incredible person, that's why. I mean, you  _ saved  _ me. You rescued me from a situation that I don't think you fully understand how terrible it was. I would have died, but not after years more of pain and suffering. And when you got me home, you didn't take advantage of me. You protected me, and you nurtured me, and now I feel like a fire that can blaze big enough to take down the entire Black-Briar empire." Romlyn paused, gauging Tabethys's reaction. "You did that for me. Selflessly. You're my hero." 

Tabethys studied Romlyn's face. The firelight cast warm highlights on his face, creating deep shadows in the crests and valleys where his brow ridges rose. His face was angular; he had a sharp nose and jawline to match. His skin was lighter than Tabethys's, with a green hue to its gray color. His eyes were red, common among their people, but they had seen many uncommon things, and there was wisdom and kindness in his eyes that was rare. 

"You're the kind of person this world needs, Tabs," Romlyn said softly. 

"You don't know me. What I've done, how I got here," Tabethys replied, his voice taut. 

"Try me," Romlyn urged. He got up and came to Tabethys's side and sat down, their knees touching. 

Tabethys stayed silent for a moment, then spoke, "I've killed people. A lot of people. Usually in self defense. A lot of people in Skyrim want to kill a Dunmer, especially one who seems like they get a lot of privileges for being special, for being the Dragonborn." He paused again. "But… the first person I killed wasn't in self defense." Tabethys felt a dam breaking in his chest. The words flowed out; he couldn't stop them. 

"We were kids. I was a little older than he was. He was smaller, a Nord. My adoptive brother. We were outside, tending the crops. It was before our parents had woken up. We were messing around, you know, like boys do. Wrestling, play fighting. He had a stick and started chasing me. I wasn't scared; I was laughing, enjoying myself. And then…" 

Tabethys choked. "Then I shot him. I shot a fireball at him. He screamed. It was unlike any noise I'd ever heard another person make. I ran over to him, but he was already gone when I got there. He was just burned, a charred husk. The skin of his face had melted off… There was so much blood… And the smell..."

Tears rolled freely down Tabethys's face, but he didn't wipe them away. His vision was distant, elsewhere. In his mind, the memory replayed. 

The smell of burnt skin filled his nostrils. Screams filled his ears. 

***

_ "What have you done to my son?!" Marja Blackthorn roared. Young Tabethys looked up at her, eyes wide, filled with fear, tears streaking his grimey face. The Nord woman grabbed him by the point of his ear and yanked him away from the burnt little boy.  _

_ "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" she screamed again.  _

_ "It was an accident!" Tabethys cried, voice quivering. "I swear! We were just--We were just playing!"  _

_ Killian Blackthorn raced out of his home, clutching his chest. He fell to his knees and bellowed a heart rending roar and cradled the dead child in his hands.  _

_ Marja shoved the dark elf child to the ground and took off the belt around her waist.  _

*** 

Romlyn rubbed slow circles into Tabethys's back. He heaved and shook, tears wracking his whole body. 

"Let it out," Romlyn soothed. 

"Why are you still here?" Tabethys cried, looking at Romlyn with swollen eyes. He felt like a puddle of goo. 

"Because I told you, nothing you could say would turn me away from you." Romlyn didn't budge. He just kept rubbing slow, steady circles. "And besides, that wasn't even your fault." 

"What do you mean?! I killed him! He was like a brother to me, and I murdered him!" 

Romlyn breathed in. "Yeah. It was tragic. But you're not a murderer. It was a horrible thing. You were a child, too, though. An inexperienced child with the instinct for fire magic. If you'd been raised by Dunmer, you'd have been trained in fire magic from a young age, and that never would have happened. But you weren't. It wasn't your fault." 

Tabethys was stunned. He stopped crying and stared at his hands. Not his fault? But how? "That doesn't mean I didn't kill him though. He's still dead. Because of  _ me _ ." 

"Yes, that's true," Romlyn said quietly. "But your guilt won't bring him back. You're torturing yourself for a crime that never happened. It wasn't a crime; you didn't deserve to be punished then, and you don't deserve to be punished now." 

Tabethys heaved a great breath from his chest. He spoke slowly, "I've never told this to anyone. I was afraid that… that I would be shunned. Judged. That people would see the truth, that I'm not a hero. I'm just a murderer." 

"You're not a murderer," Romlyn insisted. "It was an accident. You didn't kill him on purpose." 

Tabethys looked up at Romlyn, tears streaming down his face, blurring his vision. He threw his arms around Romlyn's neck and hugged him close, sobbing. 

"It's okay." Romlyn wrapped his arms around Tabethys and gently stroked his hair. 

They laid back on the bedroll, Tabethys's head on Romlyn's chest, Romlyn running his hand up and down Tabethys's back, until Tabethys finally cried himself to sleep. Romlyn looked at the stars through the wispy clouds, the dual moons cresting over the mountains and tree tops. Here he was holding the man of his dreams, sleeping under the stars. Riften was far behind him; Maven Black-Briar and Indaryn weren't breathing down his neck. There was no Ratway looming oppressively just outside his front door. Romlyn closed his eyes and, for the first time in what he realized might have been his whole life, slept peacefully. 

_______________

"Teldryn!" Geldis exclaimed. 

Teldryn approached the bar. "How would you even know it's me, given that I'm wearing this helmet that conceals my face. You've never even  _ seen _ my face, Geldis." 

"You're the only person I know who'd wear that thing indoors!" Geldis chuckled. "How about some sujamma? I've got a new recipe. Here, this one's on the house." Geldis slid a yellow bottle to Teldryn. Teldryn unscrewed the lid, pulled down the scarf over his mouth, and took a swig. 

"I think this is the best sujamma I've ever had," he remarked. 

Geldis beamed. "Thank you, sera. So, are you gonna tell me about your latest adventure, or what? It's kind of dry for stories here." 

Teldryn set down the bottle and sighed. "Not much to tell, really. Do you have a lover, Geldis?" 

Geldis raised an eyebrow. "No?" 

"Good. Don't ever get one. They're more trouble than they're worth." Teldryn took another swig, letting the drink warm him from the inside. 

"I take it you found someone on your latest travel." 

Teldryn scoffed. "If you could call it that." He sighed then looked at Geldis. "Well, I guess I can tell you, Geldis. You're the closest thing I have to a friend anymore." 

Geldis wiped down the bar, listening intently and nodding every so often as Teldryn told him how he'd taken the last job from the stranger who came through, how they'd gone to Skyrim to help a town overcome its corruption, and somewhere along the way Teldryn had realized he'd fallen in love with the brave man who'd hired him. That man had eyes for another, and the jealousy was too much for Teldryn to bear. So he left. 

"I know he's his own person. He has the right to be with whoever he wants, whoever makes him happy. I was drunk… I got mean. He deserves better than me, anyways," Teldryn finished. He slumped over, resting his head on the crook of his elbow. 

"Self pity isn't a good look for you, sera," Geldis commented. 

"I've ruined everything, Geldis. He was a nice person! I couldn't just be happy with being his friend. I needed  _ more _ ." Teldryn sighed. "I came with him to destroy the greed choking Riften but left because greed consumed me. Now Tabethys hates me, and I'll never see him again. And I have no one to blame but myself." 

_______________

Romlyn stirred his tea absentmindedly. The previous night still hung heavy on his mind. The way Tabethys had lain in his arms as the little spoon, curled perfectly in the crescent of Romlyn's body. How he had pressed his lips into the back of Tabethys's head, breathed in the warm, earthy scent of his hair. How he had interlaced his fingers with Tabethys's and slowly traced the outline of his finger. The warmth of Tabethys's body pressed into his. 

"Good morning," Tabethys mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, long hair tumbling down his shoulders like a waterfall. His cheeks were slightly blushed, still warm from sleep. 

"Morning," Romlyn said a little too loudly. "Tea?" He held up the pot. 

"Mm, yes please." Tabethys scooted out of the bedroll and climbed over to the rock next to Romlyn, picked up an empty tanker, and held it out. Romlyn poured the tea, the warm liquid steaming, painting a layer of white between them. 

Tabethys closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. Romlyn noticed how the pale pink morning light caressed his face. He seemed to be glowing. 

Tabethys opened his eyes, meeting Romlyn's. Romlyn blushed and looked down. 

"What?" Tabethys asked. "Is there something on my face?" 

"No, no," Romlyn said.  _ It's just that you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, _ he didn't say. 

Tabethys smiled and looked back down at his drink, lifted it to his lips, and slowly sipped. "Mm, this is good. What's in it?" 

"Root of blue mountain flower," Romlyn chirped. "My mother used to make it." 

"It's lovely. Where is she now? You never talk about her." 

Romlyn took a sharp breath in. "Dead." 

"Oh." 

"Skooma." 

"I'm so sorry." 

Romlyn shrugged. "It hurt for a while, not that it ever should have. She was a terrible woman, and a worse mother. But she was  _ my  _ mother. So I felt… obligated to mourn, I guess." 

Tabethys looked at Romlyn, amethyst eyes soft and kind. 

"She could be… violent, at times. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her. And when she wasn't being violent, she was ignoring me, chasing after some man or Skooma or both." Romlyn sighed, rested his wrist on his knee. "I've fended for myself since I was a kid. Marise's family looked out for me sometimes, but mostly it was just me. It's… tiring, being alone all the time." 

"Yeah, I get that." Tabethys inched closer to Romlyn. Romlyn heard the words unspoken, remembering what Tabethys had told him of his own childhood last night. 

"I'm sorry." Romlyn inched closer to Tabethys. 

"That's life." Tabethys looked up at Romlyn. Normally, Romlyn was the one looking up, since Tabethys was a couple inches taller, but they were sitting on uneven heights. It was nice, Tabethys looking up at him. 

Romlyn wanted to say a million things, but all the words were stuck, bunched up into a lump in his throat. Bravery spiked in Romlyn's chest, and his hand seemed to move without his input. Wordlessly, he reached out, gently ran his knuckles across Tabethys's cheek. Tabethys closed his eyes, sighed, leaned into Romlyn's touch. 

"You're beautiful," Romlyn murmured. 

Romlyn leaned in. Tabethys looked up, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. They were soft, plump--perfect for kissing. Romlyn closed his eyes, too, and ever so gently, closed the gap. 

It was like magic, that first kiss was. Soft and sweet, wet but not sloppy. Tabethys smelled so good, like pine trees and fresh water. He cupped Romlyn's face, pulled him closer, gripping his hair at the base of his neck. Romlyn melted, like clay in a sculptor's fingers. 

After a while, Tabethys pulled back, and Romlyn slowly opened his eyes. He felt drunk: heavy and warm, not wanting this moment to end. 

"Gods, finally," Tabethys breathed, pushing a strand of Romlyn's blond hair behind his ear. "I've been wanting to do that since I first walked into The Bee and Barb all those months ago."

"Really?!" Romlyn sputtered.

Tabethys smiled, leaned in, and planted a butterfly kiss on Romlyn's nose. "Really." 

"Well," Romlyn said, "feel free to do it again anytime." 

" _ Any _ time?" Tabethys raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh, don't be crass," Romlyn giggled, sticking his tongue out. He smiled. "I'm so glad I decided to come with you." 

"Me too," Tabethys sighed. He laid back, arm under his head. Romlyn snuggled up next to him. He fit perfectly in the crook of his arm, head on his chest, Tabethys's arm around him. They kissed again, longer this time, soaking up the new experience. Neither one wanted to break away. 

Something caught his eye. What was that? He looked harder. It was big, brown, furry. It saw him. Oh fuck. 

_ "BEAR!"  _ Romlyn cried, pointing into the forest behind Tabethys. 

"Wha--?" Tabethys mumbled. 

Romlyn pointed a shaking finger into the forest.  __ "I s-s-saw a BEAR!" 

Tabethys chuckled and pushed to his feet. Nonchalantly, he grabbed his ebony sword and pulled some fire into his hand. "Get your fire ready. We'll take this son of a bitch easy." 

"What?!" Romlyn demanded. "Are you crazy?! I can't fight a bear!" 

"Yes you can. Fire!" 

Romlyn shakily pulled fire into his hands. He'd done this a million times, but never to fire at a bear. He stayed behind Tabethys, blasting fireballs from the safety of cover. The bear charged, roaring madly. Tabethys yelled back and  _ ran towards it?!  _ Tabethys slid onto his knees, under the swipe of the bear's claws. His blade dragged along the bear's face. Fur and blood flew. Another roar. Tabethys jumped. Romlyn shot another fireball. The bear cried out. Tabethys raised his sword over his head and brought down, killing the bear in one final strike to the neck. 

It fell thunderously. 

Romlyn closed his fire, knees wobbling. "Is it dead?" he asked, voice shaking. 

"Sure is," Tabethys replied. He sauntered over to Romlyn and put his arm around his shoulders. "You did great with those fireballs! You're getting better at this." 

Romlyn smiled. A bubble of pride bloomed in his chest. Yeah, he was getting better at this wasn't he? He could defend himself with flames. "Maybe so." 

They kept walking a steady pace and by mid afternoon, they came across some hot springs. 

"Are those hot springs?!" Romlyn shouted. He took off his boots and rolled up his pants and waded in. He sighed of relief and sat down on the edge of the pool, soaking his feet in the warm water. "I had no idea there were hot springs in Skyrim." 

"Yeah, but there's a giant's camp nearby, so it's actually not the safest," Tabethys warned. 

"Well, we took down a bear no problem, and you fight dragons all the time, so what's the big deal?" Romlyn asked. 

"The giants aren't menacing. They just want to tend their mammoths in peace. I try to avoid them. I'm not  _ looking _ for a fight," Tabethys explained. "We should keep moving anyways. Who knows when the  _ Northern Maiden _ will sail out." 

"Okay," Romlyn sighed. He trudged back over and put his shoes back on. 

"Some day when we're not in a hurry, we can come back and enjoy it," Tabethys promised. 

_______________

A fast moving shadow swept over the landscape. Tabethys grabbed his bow and knocked an arrow, aiming at the sky. The dragon's roar shook the terrain, making Romlyn stumble. The massive lizard swooped down and shot fire all around them. The fire rose like a wall, surrounding them. Smoke fogged the sky. The dragon's shouts deafened Romlyn's ears, rattled his bones. Tabethys shot arrow after arrow, not caring too much about aiming. He knocked an arrow, let it fly. It hit! The dragon roared in pain, fell to the ground. It slid, and the earth itself rumbled with the weight of the magnificent thing. 

The dragon roared and crawled over to Tabethys, snapping it's castle-sized jaws at him. Something inside Romlyn snapped, and he got angry. 

He didn't think; he summoned the strongest fires he could and charged the dragon. He heard a faint scream under the blood rushing in his ears. Weapon raised over his head, he skidded to a stop. The dragon stared at him, beady eyes filled with fury. It opened its mouth, teeth almost as long as Romlyn was tall. It reached out to bite at Romlyn. Tabethys collided into the dragon, the full force of his body knocking it out of range of him. Romlyn swung his sword. Blood squirted. He blasted fire. The dragon snapped. It Shouted, fire pelting down, the heat almost unbearable. 

"To Oblivion with you!" Romlyn roared. The image of Tabethys climbing the dragon in Riften all those months ago flashed in Romlyn's mind. He gritted his teeth. He thrusted his blade into the dragon's open mouth. Saliva like liquid fire sprayed. The dragon shuddered as its soul was cleaved from its body. Romlyn stepped back. 

The enormity of what just happened washed over him. The dragon glowed, and Tabethys glowed, and the dragon's body was reduced to bone. 

"Wow!" Tabethys exclaimed, rushing over to Romlyn. 

"Did you see that?!" Romlyn cried, holding up his sword, jumping from excitement. "I stabbed that massive beast right in its mouth!" 

Tabethys beamed, eyes sparkling. "You were so brave. You did well!" 

Romlyn ran over to Tabethys and threw his arms around him. Tabethys wrapped his arms around Romlyn's waist, picked him up, and spun him around in the air. A warm feeling spread from Romlyn's nose to his toes, and he looked down at Tabethys and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

"I was inspired by you," Romlyn said after kissing Tabethys for a while. 

"By me? Why, what did I do?" Tabethys laughed. 

Tabethys set Romlyn down, their arms still around each other. 

"Remember when you first came to Riften?" 

"Yeah?" 

"And that dragon attacked?" 

Tabethys nodded. 

"You climbed to the top of Brand-Shei's stall and insulted it, and then leapt onto it and killed it. It was magnificent. I'd never seen anyone so brave or beautiful before." Something was changing in Romlyn, and he felt the change rise up in his chest. A week ago, he never would have dreamed of telling Tabethys he thought he was beautiful to his face. But now, after killing a dragon, he felt confident. It was the closest he'd felt to his old self since the Ratway. 

"Oh, I guess I did, didn't I?" Tabethys laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, I can be a bit insane when I'm fighting." 

Tabethys leaned in, resting his forehead on Romlyn's, their noses just barely touching. 

"You make me feel brave," Romlyn whispered. He reached up and caressed Tabethys's face. He felt his heart flutter. Tabethys's skin and beard were so soft. 

The ground shook, and the two jumped apart. A little ways away, a giant stood, holding his club up high over his scraggly body, stomping his feet. He had seen them, and he wasn't happy about it. The massive mammoths the behemoth of a giant shepherded also stomped their feet. 

"We should keep moving," Tabethys said, turning back towards the stone path. Romlyn walked by his side, content to follow wherever he led. 

_______________

Teldryn sat downstairs in the Retching Netch, watching as the townspeople wandered in and out, none bothering to say much of anything to him. That was fine with him; he wasn't looking for conversation unless conversation led to coin. Look what happened the last time he had conversation that didn't lead to coin, after all: nothing but pain and less coin! Teldryn groaned inwardly thinking about how much he'd fucked up that last job. He let a job become more than a job, and it had cost him dearly. And between all the raids he and Tabethys had done, he'd been making  _ very _ good pay. 

Captain Veleth of the Redoran guard came strolling in, his not-so-secret secret lover, Dreyla Alor, on his arm. They thought they were being sneaky, but Raven Rock was a small town, and word travels fast in small towns. 

"The  _ Northern Maiden _ is coming back again," Captain Veleth said to her. 

"Why would they be coming back so soon?" she replied. "They were just here two days ago." 

"I don't know, but I saw them over the horizon on my post this morning." 

They walked away to a room, fantasizing about how someday they would be getting on the  _ Northern Maiden _ , getting out of Raven Rock. Teldryn stopped listening. 

The ship was coming back? Surely they didn't have a shipment already. Normally, they delivered supplies once per month, maybe every fortnight if there was an emergency. Coming back in two days was practically unheard of. Teldryn felt his heart skip a beat as a possibility echoed in his mind. He pushed the thought out, stamping down the buds of his desire. If anything was more dangerous than falling in love, it was hoping that love would be returned. Teldryn couldn't afford that hope right now. 

Still… What if? 

What if Tabethys came back for him, begging him to come back to him.  _ We don't have to go back to Riften _ , he would say,  _ just so long as we go somewhere together _ . Teldryn gagged. He was too old to be sounding like Dreyla! 

The door to the Retching Netch swung open, and standing there, silhouetted by ash and a Solstheim sunset, was a Dunmer in a blue scarf and a scaled horn helmet. 

_______________

Maven Black-Briar stood at the table in her lodge. It was a nice enough place, although she didn't particularly enjoy living in the country. It was heavily fortified, which she unfortunately did feel the need for. Maven huffed. Her manor, gone. Her city, void of her mead. Her own city! This was an insult. And the best way to deal with insult was with a spanking. 

"You. Guard," she barked, gesturing to the mercenary leaning against the doorpost. 

"Yes, my Lady?" the mercenary said, turning to her, stumbling. What a fool. It was a pity Maul was no longer around; he may have been an idiot, but at least he was handsome and  _ knew _ her, what she liked, how she thought. 

"A mole in the city has informed me of the untimely death of my closest associate. I take that as a personal insult. Gather your men. Tell them we strike on Riften tonight," Maven ordered. "While they sleep, when they least expect it. I want you to go there and make them all pay for what that little  _ Union _ did to Maul and my home. When you've done that, burn the Orphanage, just to show them we mean business. Under no circumstances are you to touch the Meadery or the Keep. I want it to stay immaculate. After all, I plan to live there soon." 

The mercenary nodded and dutifully ran off to gather his boys and complete her bidding. 

A satisfied smile spread across Maven's lips. Yes, they would regret ever trifling with her. There was a reason she was feared by all of her employees. And when the Jarl fell, she would swoop in to take her place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✌️


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After arriving on Solstheim, things don't go Tabethys's way. That seems to be a trend, as the farther Tabethys goes, the more things fall apart. 
> 
> CW: death

"Teldryn," Tabethys said flatly, approaching him from across the room. 

"Serjo," Teldryn said, forcing his voice to be steady. His stomach lurched. He was suddenly very grateful for the scarf and goggles covering his face. "I didn't expect to see you here." 

Teldryn studied Tabethys's face. It was hard, measured. His eyes, normally sparkling with curiosity, were dull, sullen. It was as if he was completely disinterested in Teldryn, Solstheim, or anything. But if he truly was disinterested, why would he have come all this way? The journey to Solstheim from Riften was not an easy one. 

The two Dunmer stared at each other, each unsure of what to say to the other. Even Geldis stood silently, watching with bated breath. 

Teldryn caved. "You just couldn't stay away from me, could you? What with all my charm and grace." He removed his helmet and pulled down his scarf in one swift movement, extending his arms dramatically. 

Tabethys sneered playfully. "Oh yes, that's  _ totally  _ why I came all this way. It wasn't to apologize for being a complete dick at all." 

"Well of course it wasn't. Although, that might ease my…  _ wounded spirits _ ," Teldryn sighed, batting his eyelashes. 

Tabethys chuckled. His eyes were still dull, Teldryn noticed, but there was a hint of a genuine smile gracing his lips. His soft, slightly chapped lips. 

"In all seriousness," Tabethys said lowly. "I did come to apologize." 

"That's not necessary. I was the one who got way too drunk and was, well..." Teldryn's voice trailed off. 

"No, you were right," Tabethys insisted. "I was using you because I felt lost, and you're so confident and sturdy… I guess I just… I don't know. It wasn't genuine. I led you on, and then I tried to push you away. You didn't deserve to be treated that way. You've been nothing but kind to me, and my not knowing how to deal with someone's genuine feelings for me is not your problem. It's mine. I'm so sorry, Teldryn. You're a dear friend to me, and I couldn't bear to lose our friendship." 

Teldryn opened his mouth, but nothing came out. __

"You don't have to forgive me. I'll leave if you want, but I just needed to tell you that I'm sorry." Tabethys held his hands out as if offering something to Teldryn. 

"No, Tabethys!" Teldryn sputtered. "That's not it at all. Of course I forgive you. I have a lot to apologize for, too. I shouldn't have tried to coerce you into being with me out of pity or by anger and jealousy. I'll admit, I am jealous of you and Romlyn, and I got explosive. I drank way too much and said a lot of shit I regret. I was an asshole, a  _ major _ asshole. You deserve better." 

Tabethys smiled, warm and genuine. His smile was contagious; Teldryn could feel one spreading across his own face. 

"B'vehk, just hug already," Geldis muttered. 

Teldryn held his arms wide, and Tabethys crashed into him. They held each other for a moment, swaddled in the warmth of a friendship rekindled, and Teldryn could feel something welling up in his chest, threatening to burst. Teldryn opened his eyes and looked at the floor behind Tabethys. What did this mean for him?

_______________

Marise stood by her stall of fresh food, watching as the sun rose and the people trickled into the market. Her favorite part of the job was people watching. How many pieces of jewelry would Nivenor buy for herself today? Would the Honorhall children play tag or hide-and-seek? The children often did odd jobs and chores for people, especially travellers, in hopes they would be adopted. 

Shadr approached Marise, smiling bashfully. "Hi Marise." 

"Oh, hello, Shadr." Marise's heart fluttered as she smiled back him and nervously adjusted her hat. Shadr was tall, striking. His dark brown skin glowed in the sunlight, and his smile reached all the way to his sparkling brown eyes. 

"How is--are you doing, uh, today?" he asked, stumbling over his words. 

Marise stifled a giggle. "How are you? I'm well. How are things over at the stables? Old Hofgrir giving you a hard time?" 

"Nah, he's fine," Shadr said, blush creeping across his face. "Look, I wanted to ask if you'll... um, if you'd like to... well, like to have a drink with me at the Bee and Barb sometime?" 

"Shadr, that's so sweet! I'd love to." Marise beamed. Shadr was such a sweet man, so shy and thoughtful. It had been ages since someone so kind had showed an interest in Marise.

Shadr grinned at her. "Great! Um, I'm free tonight, if you are? I can come by your house and walk you there. Uh, well, you know the way, so… uh, maybe--" 

"That would be lovely, Shadr. Come by my place. I would love to walk with you." Marise smiled. He was so cute when he tripped over his words. 

Shadr nodded and waved awkwardly at her as he walked away. Warmth flooded Marise. But what would she wear tonight? 

The sun was halfway to noon now, and the market was abuzz. Three Redguard travellers sauntered into market from the Bee and Barb, Marise noticed the fine clothes and sparkling jewelry adorning them. These travellers were a cut above the usual visitors to Riften. If Marise could get in on that, she could be set for the rest of the week. 

"Food as fresh as the day it was caught!" Marise shouted, smiling as the travellers walked past. 

One of them looked at her, then looked at her wares, and stopped. "How do you mean?" 

"I have a special preservation method," Marise beamed. "It keeps the food fresher and better tasting than the traditional salt method." 

The travelers looked at each other and then back at Marise's food cart. 

"If you're interested, you could try a sample." Marise offered them some of her finest cheese. 

The one who spoke first took a bite. "Oh this is simply delicious!" she crooned with a mouthful. She swallowed, then spoke to her companions in their native language. 

"We'll take three pounds of beef, two wheels of that cheese, some leeks, cabbage, and…" They continued listing the food they wanted, and Marise could hardly believe it. They were buying half the food on her cart! 

"That'll be 500 gold," she said, hesitantly, hoping she wasn't aiming too high. 

The woman handed over a coin purse without a fuss. Maybe Marise should have asked for more. 

One of the children from the orphanage, a Nord boy, ran up to the travelers. "Hi!" he chirped. "I was named after the sound a lion makes. You know: rrroooaaaarr! Really. That means I'm super strong, just like the lion! So if you, uh, need any help carrying your bags, I can help." 

He bounced, eagerness plain on his soft face. The Redguard woman patted him on the head and handed him one of the bags of food. Hroar looked into the bag, and Marise noticed a pained expression on his face. Constance Michel did her best, but there was never enough food to go around at the orphanage. Everyone knew it, but what could they do? 

Hroar followed the Redguards out to the gates, and Marise knew he was hoping they would adopt him. She remembered how Romlyn had acted at that age. He had almost been sent to the orphanage himself, but his mother had drifted in and out of his life often enough that the Jarl didn't order it. The two of them had spent long nights wondering what life would have been like they'd been born to different people. Hroar likely wondered the same things. Marise made a mental note to spend more time volunteering at the orphanage. 

_______________

  
  


The night was calm. Cicadas and crickets chirped, owls hooted, and somewhere far off in the distance, a wolf howled, and its pack howled back. Marise's heart beat wildly in her chest. Any moment now, Shadr would arrive to take her out for drinks at the Bee and Barb. 

A faint noise filtered from outside her door. Marise looked up from her book. It sounded like screaming. She stood and set the book down on the chair, crossing the room to press her ear to the door. 

It was definitely screaming. She heard someone run past her door and jumped back. Heart pounding, all she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears. She scanned her meager living quarters, frantically searching for anything she could use to protect herself. 

"Calm down," she hissed at herself. "You don't even know what's going on! It could be nothing." 

She took a deep breath and exhaled her worries. She slipped her feet into her shoes and opened the door. Ash and dust filled her mouth, and the metallic stench blood shocked her nostrils, causing her to stagger and cough. A man she didn't recognize ran past and ascended the stairs to the main level of the city. Against her better judgement, Marise followed him. 

Fires lit up the once calm night. The smoke and ash consumed her vision, making her feel like she was a child back in Morrowind. Screams filled Marise's ears, shattering her nostalgia. Nivenor cowered near a shop stall, hands covering her head while a man armored in steel towered over her. He brought his war axe down, and the wailing stopped. Marise stood, frozen, as Nivenor's head rolled on the ground, her brilliant jewelry doused in her own blood. Marise watched as the deep red stain spread across the planks, her feet glued to the ground beneath her. 

Her eyes traveled over the market to the orphanage. Scarlet red flames rolled off its sloping roof, and the agonizing screams penetrated Marise's thick layer of shock. As if directed by something outside of herself, she ran breakneck pace to the orphanage, coughing, lungs burning. 

"Is anyone in there?!" Marise cried, banging on the Honorhall door. 

"Help us!" she heard someone scream. A child scream. The fear was palpable, heavy and sharp, a knife to Marise's throat. 

The children cried in pure terror and pain. Their cries pierced her ears, carving themselves into her brain. Marise placed her flat palm on the door and concentrated, trying to draw the flames to herself.  _ Come, come, I am your ancestor, your mother, your home. _ She chanted in Dunmeris, begging, pleading with the flames.  _ Please, not them. Not them.  _

"Marise!"

She jolted towards the voice. "Ungrien!"

She felt the energy of the fire rise. It was rising too fast. 

"Get away!" she screamed, flinging herself to the ground and covering her head. 

The fire burst forth, heat sucking all the moisture from the air, flames licking at Marise's feet. The orphanage collapsed, groaning like a draugr. She gawked, open mouthed, at the carnage before her. Wood posts like bones splintered out of the fire. Thick black smoke choked the air. Marise looked away, down at the ground. A little hand protruded from the rubble, blistered skin melting off stark bone. 

Ungrien clasped her, hoisting her up out of the flames. "We have to get out of here!"

Marise felt as if her soul had vacated her body. She watched as a man in steel armor ran through the town, setting the shop stalls on fire with his torch, laughing. A town guard approached him, and for a moment, Marise thought the guards might actually step up and do their job. The steel armored brute looked down at guard, and the guard stepped aside. The fire roared behind them, devouring the wooden town on the lake. The army of steel swarmed, killing any who stood in their way, looting as they saw fit. Ungrien guided her through the blaze, to the gates behind the meadery. The meadery, she noticed, was perfectly untouched by the flames. 

Ungrien dove into the lake and swam out to shore. Marise turned and took one last lingering glance at her city, her home. Shadr. She hoped he would be safe. The flames reached for the sky, smoke billowed up, blanketing the stars. The night bugs were silent, no owls could be heard over the roaring flames, and the wolves watched timidly from afar. 

________________

"So, are you coming back with us, then?" Tabethys asked. 

Teldryn sighed. "I don't know, Tabs. Do you think that's a good idea?" 

"I want it to be," he offered. 

"Yeah. Me, too. But I think…" Teldryn sucked in a breath. "I think it would be best if I stayed. You and Romlyn should go do your thing. Write me from time to time, and I'll write back. If you ever find yourself in Solstheim again, you know where I am." 

Tabethys frowned. "I would really like it if you came back with me, friend. You're a strong warrior and a good friend. I understand if it's awkward for you, but I'd really miss you." 

Tabethys turned away and looked into his half empty bottle of Sujamma. "I can't guarantee that I'll be able to keep my jealousy in check. I don't want a repeat of last time." 

"I don't think that'll happen." Tabethys stepped closer to Teldryn. 

Teldryn stepped back. "It's the end of the journey for us, Tabethys. I won't put myself through that. Or you." 

Tabethys's shoulder slumped. It was all Teldryn could do not to grasp him in a hug and take back everything he had said. Of course he would go with Tabethys. He would follow him to the ends of Nirn. But he couldn't. 

"I'm sorry. I just can't put myself in that position." Teldryn turned ran up the stairs, leaving Tabethys standing by himself at the bar. Geldis poured him a drink. 

_______________

"Dravin!" Ungrien shouted, pounding his fists on the farmhouse door. Marise stood beside him, the image of the child's burned hand seared into her mind. 

Dravin flung the door open. "Marise? Ungrien?" 

"Please, you have to let us in," Ungrien begged. "We have to hide!" 

"Hide?! What in Oblivion is going on?!" Dravin demanded. 

Marise could barely hear the two of them over the screams and roaring fire that blazed in her ears. She looked up at Dravin, catching his glance, his expression uninterpretable. 

Dravin stepped aside, the two elves graciously entered the house. 

"Dravin?" Synda called, climbing up the stairs from the basement, her hair disheveled. "What's going on?" 

"Marise and Ungrien are here. Something terrible is happening in Riften." Dravin turned to Marise. "Follow me." 

He led them down the stairs. The basement was quaint; a bed for Dravin and Synda, and two smaller beds for the children, Relthys and Balev. The kids slept soundly, unaware that anything had changed since their parents tucked them in. Marise watched little Relthys sleep, her tiny fist curled up by her mouth. She felt something break inside her chest and had to force tears from slipping down her cheek. Synda settled in her bed, sitting up, watching her children with the same fearful expression Ungrien had when he told Marise they had to leave the city. 

Dravin beckoned for Marise and Ungrien to follow him as he pushed aside a bookcase, opening up a little bunker no bigger than the basement room they had been standing in. There was a pile of hay on the floor, a chair in the corner, and a small lantern hanging on the wall, which Dravin lit with a spark from his fingertips. 

"Now," Dravin said, turning to face them both, "what happened?" 

"Maven Black-Briar is what happened," Marise spoke. "She and her band of brutes stormed the city." 

"Her men set the Bunkhouse on fire while I slept with my fellow workers," Ungrien added, voice trembling. "I barely escaped. I didn't see who else got out." 

"They burned the orphanage, too. I heard the screams of the children as it collapsed on them," Marise whispered, unblinking, looking down at her feet. Maven took everything from them. Marise was going to go on a first date with a wonderful man, and now, he could very well be dead. And the children? No one deserved to die like that, but especially not them. 

Dravin sucked in a breath. 

Marise sat down on the chair and looked into the weak flame of the lantern. It sputtered on its little wick, struggling to breathe, struggling to consume enough of the wax to stay alive. 

"We have to do something," Marise said, looking over at Dravin and Ungrien. Ungrien was sitting on the ground, back against the wall, pulling at the hems of his shirt. 

Ungrien didn't look up. "There's nothing to be done, Marise." 

"There has to be something. We can't just  _ let _ her have the city," Marise insisted. 

Ungrien looked up at her, eyes puffy, face pale. She could see every muscle in his jaw, tense, taut with fear. He shook his head slowly. 

Dravin sighed and left the room. 

"What's your deal?" Marise hissed at Ungrien. 

"My deal?" he asked incredulously. "Did you not see all the bodies? The bodies of our  _ friends _ just… just laying there? Dead?" 

Marise pressed her lips into a thin line. "I saw them." 

"Well good. Maybe you'll learn from them. Do you want to end up like that? Because continuing to fight Maven is how you'll end up like that." 

Marise shook her head. "I don't want them to have died for nothing! If we give up now, don't you see, they will have died for nothing." 

"If we continue fighting, we'll  _ all _ die for nothing." 

Dravin came back into the room holding a pitcher of water. He handed a cup to Marise and filled it, then he filled one for Ungrien, too. They drank in silence. 

_______________

Tabethys stood outside of the Cornerclub. He kicked at a stone half covered by ash and winced when the stone didn't budge. 

"Where's Teldryn?" Romlyn asked, approaching Tabethys. 

Tabethys shook his head and walked towards the docks. 

Wordlessly, he handed a pouch of coin to the captain of the  _ Northern Maiden _ and climbed aboard. Romlyn sat next to him, hand on his knee, a silent comfort. He slumped over the edge of the ship, staring listlessly at Red Mountain, still belching ash two hundred years later. He wondered if he had ever seen it up close, or if he ever would see it up close. As the ship debarked and Red Mountain grew fainter, Tabethys felt something snap in his chest. Tears ran silently down his face, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. 

_______________

  
  


Teldryn sat in his chair upstairs in the Retching Netch, watching the door. Other than Mogrul and his little weasel of a bodyguard pacing the floor, it was dead silent. Only the occasional pop of fire from hearth alerted Teldryn to the passing of time. He stretched, yawning beneath his scarf. 

The door to the Retching Netch creaked open. Teldryn sat up, hoping to see a frayed blue tunic and long black ponytail. No such luck. A Dunmer with wild hair, leather armor, and perma-scowl stood in the doorway. He was covered in dirt and ash. Teldryn watched as the outlander approached Mogrul. 

"I've got a proposition for you, orc, if you're interested in making coin," the newcomer said. 

Slitter, Mogrul's little ash hopper, pushed the outlander. "Mogrul doesn't lend coin to outlanders. Look somewhere else _. _ " 

"You haven't even heard my offer!" he protested. 

"Don't need to. Get lost!" 

The wild haired Dunmer sulked away. His eyes laid on Teldryn, looking him up and down. "You. You're a sellsword, right?" 

"The best swordsman in all Morrowind," Teldryn replied. 

"I'm Ralis Sedarys, and I have a job for you." 

Teldryn crossed his arms. "My rate is 500 coin and half of all exploits." 

Ralis handed over a coin purse. "Can you fight Draugr?" 

Teldryn laughed. "Can I? I prefer to." 

"Excellent. Follow me." And so Teldryn had a new patron.

The pair left the Retching Netch, exiting Raven Rock through the Bulwark. Ralis led them on a trail up a hill, ash swirling all around them, until they came to a rather impressive hole in the ground. Nordic ruins. A hitch caught in Teldryn's throat as he thought about all the Nordic ruins he had explored with Tabethys. He shook his head. Now was not the time for nostalgia. Now was the time to kill Draugr and earn a paycheck. 

_______________

  
  


"No!" Bolli moaned, clutching his dead wife in his arms. He sobbed, rocking his once beautiful Nivenor. 

Smoke rose up all around him; fire nipped at his heels. He didn't move. He  _ couldn't _ move. He didn't scream when the fire consumed his flesh. He let the smoke dissolve him. 

"Bolli!" Mjoll screamed. 

"We have to go, Mjoll! Leave him!" Aerin cried, tugging at Mjoll's arm. 

"No, I won't!" She ripped her arm free of Aerin's grasp and dove into the flames, roaring in agony. She pulled the unconscious Bolli from the fire. 

"Mjoll!" Aerin cried. 

An axe connected with her back, knocking her down, stealing the breath from her lungs. 

She whirled around, the taste of blood and smoke heavy on her tongue. Her assailant laughed and swung his axe down again. Mjoll rolled, drew her sword, thrust upwards. The metal plates of the mercenary's armor  _ shlicked _ as the sword ripped through the gap and into the man's soft belly. Blood poured, coating Mjoll's chest. The man's face turned ghastly white. She sloughed him off her sword with her foot and rose, hoisting Bolli over her shoulder. 

"We have to get down. Smoke rises," she instructed Aerin. They weaved their way through the moaning, opaque city. Cries and screams rang out over the roaring fire. Mjoll gritted her teeth, steeling herself against her need to rescue more people and wiped sweat off her brow. She had to get Aerin to safety. He was her lifeforce. If she lost him… She shook that thought out of her head.  _ You've gotta keep clear, Mjoll _ . 

They stumbled down the stairs and crossed the canal, fumbling into the Ratway. "It's damp in here, and made of stone, so you should be safe from the fire," Mjoll said, coughing. She set Bolli down on the ground. "Aerin, I need to go back up there. They need my help." 

"Mjoll, no!" Aerin cried. "It's not your job to rescue them. If you go up there… you could  _ die!" _

"Oh, Aerin." Mjoll smiled wistfully at him. "These are my people. If I don't at least try, I will never be able to rest with myself." 

Aerin wiped his eyes. 

"Do not worry, my love." She leaned in and kissed the top of his head. "I will come back to you." 

She caressed his face, and he leaned in to her touch. "I'll try to heal Bolli," he offered. 

"I know. I love you," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. 

"I love you, too." 

They kissed one last time, long and sweet, and then Mjoll turned and ran out of the Ratway. 

The chaos of the city smacked her across the face like a wet fish. Or, rather, a wet fish that was on fire and reeked of death. She grimaced and grabbed her sword. Never a dull moment. She roared a Nord battlecry and ran at the first steel armored mercenary she saw. 

He turned and swung a greatsword at her head. She parried, jabbed, steel connecting with steel. The greatsword swooshed past, snipping off a strand of her hair as she ducked. She thrust upward, felt her sword hit something soft. The mercenary toppled with a stifled scream. He didn't get up. Blood dripping from her sword, Mjoll scowled and charged the next mercenary. He fought bravely, but he, too, fell to Mjoll's sword. Where he fell, another approached. This one gave her a gash on her cheek, and for that, he paid with his life. 

Panting, smoke burning her lungs, Mjoll pushed on. There were still dozens of men swarming her city. The four she had slain made no dent. She stood in the city center and beheld the Jarl's keep. It towered above the smoke and dust engulfing the city. 

Mjoll noticed a rope hanging over the balcony. At the end of the rope, a lifeless woman's body hanged, swaying gently, her auburn hair whispering in the wind. 

Standing at the balcony, looming over the town, Mjoll saw a woman with long, dark hair and a sinister smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I had three chapters almost ready to go, but then I had to go back and cut 2,000 words, basically having to redo three chapters. It was a doozy. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We are nearing the end of Act II, and it only gets more intense from here. We all saw this coming, right? ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Maven Black-Briar in Mistveil Keep and Tabethys and Mjoll in jail, Romlyn has to scramble to find a way to fix what's been destroyed. Will he find unlikely allies, or will he and the Riften People's Union have to submit to the new law of the land?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change! This fic was previously rated M, but now it is rated E. There's smut coming up in future chapters (not this chapter). You have been warned.

Darkness enveloped Aerin. He could see only the faintest outline of the body at his feet. Bolli's body. He had exerted his magicka until his hands turned black, but Bolli had slipped away, his efforts in vain. Aerin sunk to his knees, placing his hands on Bolli's cold, still chest. A cry escaped his lips. 

"Aerin, is that you?" a young man asked. 

Aerin shot up, his heart skipping beats, punching loudly in his ears. "Who's asking?" Aerin replied. 

A Dunmer appeared out of the dark of the Ratway, ponytail, tawny frame, pinched face, and sideburns. Tythis Ulen. 

"Oh, thank the divines," Aerin breathed. "I was worried no one else had made it. Who else is with you?" 

"Brand-Shei, Damon, Madesi, Talen-Jei, Shadr, and Grelka. Where's Mjoll?" 

Aerin looked down. "She went back out there." 

"Out there?!" Tythis cried, gesturing to the city. 

Aerin nodded, blubbering. "Said she wanted to rescue people. I tried to convince her not to, but well. You know Mjoll." 

"Damned hero types. No sense of self-preservation." 

Aerin gestured to Bolli. "He didn't make it." 

"Oh, no." Tythis bent down, placed a hand on Bolli's forehead. 

"I tried to save him." Aerin's voice wavered. "He was already dead when we got here." 

Tythis stood back up and took Aerin's hands, noticing the black stains on his fingertips. "It's okay. You did everything you could." 

"I told Mjoll to leave him! She's the one who wanted to try." Aerin broke into tears. "Oh, Tythis, what if she never comes back?" 

"Uh, sh-she will. It's Mjoll, Aerin. She can take care of herself," Tythis stammered. He steered the man away from Bolli, into the Ragged Flagon, and sat him down at a table across from Shadr. 

Aerin slumped over, crying. "I'm just so worried about her." 

"I know." Tythis sat down across from Aerin, offering nothing but his own company. It was all he had to offer. 

Aerin stood up, wiped his eyes. Mjoll, his bravehearted Lioness. How he'd ever managed to make that woman fall in love with him was beyond him. But then he remembered when he found her outside Mzinchaleft, broken and half dead; he had saved her. What if she needed him now? What if she was hurt, waiting for him to come and heal her again? "I have to go after her." 

"What?! Aerin, don't do that!" Tythis yanked Aerin's arm. 

"No, Tythis, you don't understand. I  _ have _ to. I'm the one who found her at Mzinchaleft. If she's hurt… she needs me."

"Aerin!" Shadr shouted. "Please, tell me if you see Marise." 

Aerin nodded to Shadr, then turned and ran out of the tavern, through the tunnel, and out of the Ratway, not waiting to see the terrified expression on Tythis's face. 

_______________

Maven stood proudly at the balcony of the Jarl's keep, circlet glinting from atop her head, cool expression on her face.

Mjoll clenched her teeth. "Maven," she hissed. She squared her shoulders and started after the keep. A seething rage welled up and washed over her. A primal roar ripped from her throat. There was nothing in her sights but the enemy. 

"Mjoll!" 

She heard a faint cry beneath her rage. A man's voice.  _ Her _ man's voice. She whirled around, blazing fury turning to ice-cold terror. 

"Mjoll!" Aerin cried again. 

Two steel-armored mercenaries held the short man up off the ground by his arms. He kicked. One of them punched him in the gut. They dropped him. He collapsed on the cobblestone. 

"Aerin!" Mjoll screamed. She lunged forward, but three mercenaries barricaded her, grabbing her arms, holding her back. One of them ripped her sword from her hand, and it clattered across the cobblestone.

The mercenaries kicked Aerin. He yelped. Mjoll felt the sickening thuds of the blows as they connected with his sides as if they were kicking her. A  _ crack _ echoed, and Aerin screamed. 

Mjoll writhed in the mercenaries' grasp, trying to break free. A swift kick to the back of her knee toppled the strong Nord woman. They had all the leverage. 

One of the mercenaries beating Aerin stopped and looked Mjoll in her eyes. A twisted smile creased his ash-streaked face. The long sword in his hand glinted in the firelight. Mjoll's heartbeat pounded in her ears. He raised the sword.  _ Ba-bump.  _ He turned the blade down.  _ Ba-bump. _

Aerin cried out to Mjoll, his voice hoarse and weak. 

_ Ba-bump.  _

"Mjoll, I love--" 

_ Ba-bump.  _

Metal pierced his chest. 

_ Ba-bump.  _

A stark red stain spread across his chest. 

_ Ba-bump.  _

Blood gargled in his throat, poured from his open mouth, obscuring his last words. 

_ Ba-bump.  _

Red spread across Mjoll's vision. She saw nothing. She heard nothing. There was nothing. 

She thrashed. Metal on metal. Blood. Broken bones. She felt the cold metal of a sword in her hand. A scream pierced the fog, but the fog rushed back to overtake it. One merc fell. Another. Another. More steel warriors swarmed, ants to a stray a morsel. They piled on top of Mjoll, crushing her spirit, smothering her resistance. Her vision turned from red to black, and she swung wildly. With a  _ crack _ she fell to the ground, pinned. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing mattered at all. Did she die? Was she alive? There was no telling. 

Aerin was gone. 

_______________

Birds sang in the trees, snow fell lazily, and the sun shone brightly. Romlyn's head rested on Tabethys's shoulder. Soon they would be back in Riften, and Tabethys could finally show the Jarl proof that Maven Black-Briar was corrupt. Tabethys smiled and kissed Romlyn's head, breathing in the scent of his soft, warm hair. 

"I'm proud of us," Tabethys said. 

Romlyn quirked his head towards Tabethys. "What makes you say that?" 

"We're doing something good. Most people would just be content not to change anything. But we are actually doing something." 

"Yeah, I guess we are." Romlyn smiled at Tabethys, making Tabethys's heart skip a beat. 

The carriage swayed with the steps of the horse, hooves clopping evenly across the cobblestone path. They were about to ride through Shore's Stone. Tabethys could smell the tang of molten iron, and hear the clanging of pickaxes. They were getting close, and something about that was making Tabethys feel anxious. As the horse carriage pulled through Shor's Stone, dread slipped into his veins, ice cold. He focused on the thatched roofs of the houses. 

"Do you feel like something's not right?" he asked. 

"What do you mean?" Romlyn responded. 

"I mean… I don't know. Something just feels  _ off _ to me. I can't put my finger on it." 

Romlyn raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure everything is fine." 

Tabethys looked into the Fall Forest, trying to ignore the dread that was growing stronger by the minute. 

They smelled it before they saw it: fire. Billowing up over the trees was a huge cloud of ash-white smoke. 

"No!" Romlyn gasped. 

The horse drawing the carriage whinnied in panic and bucked. 

"Woah!" the carriage driver tried to calm her, but the horse ignored him and kicked the carriage, tossing the occupants, and then she disappeared into the forest. The carriage driver sprinted after the horse, leaving Tabethys and Romlyn by the side of the road. 

"Oh no. No, no, no. This can't be happening!" Romlyn cried, jumping to his feet, taking off towards Riften. Tabethys grabbed his pack and ran, matching pace with the thunderous beat of his heart. 

They approached the front gates of Riften, and the guard drew his sword. "Halt!" 

Romlyn and Tabethys skidded to stop. The guard pointed his sword at them. Aside from the dull roar of fire, all was eerily silent. Tabethys's first visit to Riften flashed before his eyes. He had heard the people of Riften from outside the city. The forest had teemed with life; birds and other creatures had been singing and chittering happily. But as he stood here now, guard pointing his sword in his face, fire raging within the city walls, he heard nothing: not a single sign of life. And that scared him more than any dragon he had ever faced. 

"You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people!" the guard shouted. "What say you in your defense?" 

"What crime?" Tabethys demanded. 

"Treason against the Jarl of Riften!" The guard stepped forward. "How do you answer the charge?" 

"Treason?!" Tabethys repeated. 

"I'll not ask again! State your plea or I bring you in cold," the guard stated. 

"I demand to see Jarl Laila. What count of treason? I committed no act of treason!" Tabethys protested. 

"Jarl Maven is not taking visitors at this time. If you don't pay the fine, you'll be arrested for resisting arrest!" 

Understanding washed over Tabethys, and he drew his sword, releasing a snarl from his lips. Romlyn pulled fire into his hands. "I recognize no Jarl by that name." 

The guard lunged forward at Tabethys. Romlyn blasted a fireball at the guard, knocking him back. Tabethys thrust his sword forward, skewering the guard, then let him fall to the ground, lifeless. The pair rushed the city gates, desperate to save their city. 

Tabethys sprinted towards the city center, the full scope of the horror growing more real every second. When he noticed the orphanage, he stopped, his heart ceasing to beat. He didn't see the guards racing towards him. 

"Stop, in the name of the law!" 

The guards tackled him to the ground, gagged him with a rough cloth, taking his Thu'um from him. Tabethys thrashed against the hold of the guards, but they kicked him and put more weight on him, pinning him flat to the ground. 

"Let him go, pigs!" Romlyn shouted, fire blazing in his palms. Two guards tackled Romlyn, throwing him to the ground. 

"You're not under arrest,  _ elf _ ," one of the guards spat. "Fuck off if you want to keep it that way." 

Guards stood at every corner of the city, armed and eager. They were surrounded. Romlyn growled as he backed away from the guards. Tabethys looked at Romlyn, his amethyst eyes pleading,  _ don't lose hope!  _

_______________

  
  


Mjoll sat, slumped over, on the rickety stool in the jail cell provided to her. She had been arrested, though she couldn't say what for. She was barely even aware that she had been arrested. A husk of a woman, Mjoll the Lioness stared emptily at the wall. The only thing she could see was a dark red river pouring from the mouth of her beloved Aerin. There were no tears left to cry, even though her soul begged for release. Her eyes were heavy, longing for sleep, but her mind would not quell. The image of Aerin's last moments stuck in her mind, playing on loop, tormenting her. If only she hadn't left the Ratway. If only she had listened to Aerin and left Riften for Cyrodiil with him. If only this, if only that. 

But she hadn't. 

And now he was dead. 

A tray of stale bread slid into her cell. She looked at it from her seat, but made no move to touch it. 

"Eat, prisoner," the guard barked, brandishing a club. 

Mjoll didn't move. 

"I said,  _ eat,  _ prisoner," the guard repeated. 

When Mjoll made no move, the guard laughed lowly and unlocked the cell. Before Mjoll could even register that the guard was in her cell, she was on the floor, face stinging from the strike of the guard's club. 

"Eat!" 

The stinging felt good. It was better than the knife she felt in her stomach at the sight of Aerin. The guard struck her again, back of the head this time. It sent a ringing through her ears, jostling her vision. Aerin's blood soaked tunic wavered in her eyes. Another strike, to her back this time. Instinctively, Mjoll rolled over, curled her knees in to protect herself. Protect herself from what? Wouldn't it be better just to succumb? They had lost.  _ She  _ had lost. 

The guard stepped back, panting. "Eat." 

But Mjoll wasn't a quitter. She picked up the stale bread and took a bite. The guard laughed and stalked away. 

Mjoll chewed slowly, forcing herself to focus on the repetitive movement and the spongy bread, instead of the dead people just above her on the town's surface, Aerin among them. 

With a clatter, three guards entered the jail, hauling a thrashing, bleeding Tabethys, bound and gagged. They tossed him into a cell and kicked him twice in the chest, then slammed the gate shut and locked it. He cried out when he saw her. 

Mjoll looked away. 

_______________

Romlyn stood in the city center--or rather, what  _ used _ to be the city center, and gawked. The market stalls were destroyed; wares littered the ground. The Bunkhouse was burned down, and bodies were strewn all over the market. The guards swarmed them, tackling Tabethys to the ground and gagging him. 

"Let him go, pigs!" Romlyn shouted, raring for an attack. Two guards tackled Romlyn, throwing him to the ground. 

"You're not under arrest,  _ elf _ ," one of the guards spat. "Yet. Fuck off if you want to keep it that way." 

Guards stood at every corner of the city, armed and eager. Romlyn was surrounded. He couldn't free Tabethys. He growled but backed away from the guards. Tabethys looked at Romlyn, his amethyst eyes piercing, begging,  _ don't let them take me away! _

A tidal force washed over Romlyn, and he collapsed to his knees, unable to stand. He did this. This was  _ his _ fault. If he had never started that stupid union, none of this would have happened. Romlyn felt tears run down his cheeks. He looked down, studied the cobblestones beneath him. Soot and dried blood caked the grout between the stones, and it took everything Romlyn had to keep breathing. 

He needed to find the rest of the Union. If everyone came together, they might be able to fix this. He moved to go down to the lower level. For some reason, he felt like they would be hiding in the Ratway. 

The Ratway. Just the name made him want to crawl out of his skin and lay under the trampling hooves of horses, like there was a gaping hole where once his soul had been. Sometimes he wondered if Vex had taken his soul into a black soul gem. 

The gate to the Ratway hung open, creaking sadly on its rusted hinges as Romlyn entered. The dripping of the sewage echoed in the dark, empty chamber. 

"Hello?" Romlyn called. His voiced bounced off the hard stone walls. He stepped forward, darkness blinding him. The intense smell wafted up, making him stagger. "Is anyone there?"

"Romlyn?" someone called. "Oh Romlyn, it's so good to see you." Madesi approached him. 

"Madesi," Romlyn greeted. "What happened? Where is everyone?" 

Madesi hung his head and chittered under his breath. "Follow me." 

Madesi guided him through the tunnels and across a wooden bridge, into a huge chamber Romlyn almost recognized. There was a bar and several tables, and a small band of the Riften People's Union members were slouched over the tables. Talen-Jei sat on the edge of the dock, staring listlessly into the opaque waters. The room felt heavy, like something was choking all the air in the room, and it wasn't just the rotten stench of the Ratway. 

"Where is everyone?" Romlyn asked again. 

"We're all that's left," Madesi replied quietly. 

"Marise?" Romlyn breathed. 

Madesi shook his head. "I'm so sorry." 

Romlyn felt his heart drop. He couldn't breathe. It was as though he'd been kicked hard in the chest. Marise was like a big sister to him. He'd always kind of assumed she was immortal. And now… 

"What. Happened," Romlyn asked through gritted teeth. 

Madesi sobbed. "Maven Black-Briar! She and an army of mercenaries stormed the city while we slept. We were totally overwhelmed. They set everything on fire. Ungrien, Valindor, Nivenor, Bolli, and Marise are gone. Mjoll and Aerin were here, but they left and no one's seen them." 

"Has anyone searched for survivors?" Romlyn felt panic threaten to choke him, steal any courage he had left over from slaying the dragon, and leave him and his friends to rot in the sewer. 

Madesi shook his head. "No, we've been too scared to go back out since Mjoll and Aerin never came back. Where's Tabethys?" 

"He was arrested right when we got here. Treason, they said." Romlyn put his arm around Madesi who was still crying. 

They couldn't just stay here while Maven got control of the city. They had to fight back. 

"I know what you're thinking," Madesi said. "And it won't work." 

"What?" Romlyn asked. 

"Fighting her. She's  _ stronger _ than us." Madesi groaned. "We'll never beat her." 

Romlyn crossed his arms. "Well, we aren't giving up yet. And I have a plan. It requires everyone here, but if we all chin up and do our part, it could work." 

Grelka and Brand-Shei looked up at the sound of that. So everyone  _ had _ been listening, Romlyn noticed. 

"Could?" Madesi asked. 

"We have to work together if we're going to free Tabethys and overthrow Maven." Romlyn stepped back, resting his weight on one foot. "There's no reason for us to give up now." 

Grelka scoffed. "No reason? Romlyn, look around you! We lost. We lost  _ big _ . Didn't you notice how practically the whole city is burned to the ground? Didn't you see Jarl Laila hanging from her own balcony? Or did you just gloss over those things?" 

"I didn't gloss over them, no." Romlyn crossed his arms.  _ Keep calm, stay level. You'll think of something _ . "But we can't give up. We can't concede. If we do that… then everyone who sacrificed their lives will have died for nothing. And that's not something I can stand." 

Grelka pressed her lips into a thin line. 

"I have a plan," Romlyn lied. "We'll meet later to discuss it." 

_______________

Tabethys ran to the bars of his cell. He was still gagged, so he couldn't say anything to her, but he waved and moaned incoherently to Mjoll. She wouldn't look at him, though, and Tabethys noticed the dark violet and blue bruise blooming across her face. Slowly, she lifted a piece of bread to her mouth and took a bite. 

Tabethys jumped up and down, waving his arms and grunting. Mjoll glanced over her shoulder at him, but then she looked away, moving as though she was under water. 

A guard came over and banged the butt of her sword on the jail cell bars. 

"Quiet, prisoner!" she barked. 

Tabethys huffed and sat down on the floor, his side stinging from where the guards had beaten him. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get Mjoll out of here. While he was stuck in here, Maven only grew stronger. But the cell door was locked, and he didn't have any picks. How was he supposed to get out? 

Tabethys tugged on the edges of the burlap fabric he had been made to wear. It itched and barely offered him any decency. He leaned in and sniffed it, immediately recoiling. It reeked of piss. Had he really fallen so low as to have his ass hanging out in a stinking cell? He shivered. There was a small window outside of his cell, and he could see thick flakes of snow falling. The weak fire on the second floor of the jail did little to warm the place. Every hair on Tabethys's body stood on end in a vain effort to warm him. The cuffs on his wrist prevented him from using even the smallest bit of fire magic to heal himself. 

For the first time since he had been thrown out of the Blackthorn's house, he felt truly helpless. He couldn't defend himself, let alone his friends. They had counted on him, and he'd failed. He brought this hammer down on the city. Tabethys looked over his shoulder at Mjoll. She was laying on the ground, her back to him, her long hair dirty and tangled. 

He looked back at the floor of his cell, picking at some loose strands in his rough tunic. The stone floor blurred as tears flooded his vision. Where had it all gone so wrong? 

_______________ 

A blanket of snow smoothed the ash and splintered wood of the ruined buildings. Romlyn shivered in his linen clothes; only the guards were allowed to wear armor in the city walls, as he'd so rudely been made aware of just yesterday. Romlyn scowled, missing the heavy comfort of the well worn armor. 

Maven stood at the balcony of Mistveil Keep, her fine robes glinting in the morning sun. Guards stood evenly spaced on the steps to the Keep, each pointing a spear at the audience. Guards also flanked the audience, holding weapons across their chests. They were ready to quell any riot before it began.

"Subjects of Riften," Maven said, her thin voice booming in the silence. "As you have most likely noticed, I am the Jarl now. This is an honor I do not take lightly. Jarl Laila was always light-handed, and she allowed this once fine city to turn into a slum. Under my hand, things will change. This is ambitious and aggressive change, so you all have a part to play." 

Maven paused, clearly anticipating applause. Romlyn had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the tired silence. 

"Everyone has a part to play," Maven continued. "Riften has a reputation for being a dangerous city. That's bad for business, and what's bad for business is bad for all of us. The Black-Briar Meadery is going to start shipping far and wide, and we'll be pushing for tourism to revitalize the city. Before that can happen, we have to clean up." Maven smoothed the front of her tunic. "We're going straight to the deep end. No hand holding, and no coddling. Twelve hour shifts for every able bodied worker until this town is cleaned and rebuilt. There are also new rules that will be strictly enforced." 

Maven stepped back from the balcony as a large scroll unfurled. "These are the new rules. You are expected to follow them to the letter. They will be posted here for all to read. Not knowing the rule is not an adequate defense, and all infractions will be punished swiftly." 

"I can't read!" someone shouted. "What am I supposed to do?" 

Maven laughed incredulously. "You can't read? Is that supposed to be  _ my _ problem?" She turned on her heel and vanished into the Keep. 

Angry murmurs swept through the crowd. The line of guards on the Keep steps thrust their spears forward, shoulders squared. The jeers from the crowd quieted. There would be no repeat of the summer riots. 

Romlyn looked up at the sky. Clouds moved through the field of azure like thread through fabric: slow and deliberate. They were thick and fluffy, pregnant with precipitation. He felt a breeze on the back of his neck and shivered. Winter had caught up to autumn; snow had overtaken the gentle rains of fall. He wished once again he was able to wear his armor; leather was much warmer than linen. 

_______________

  
  


"So what's the plan?" Grelka demanded, hands flat on the table. The darkness of the Ratway made her look even angrier than she normally looked. 

"That's what this meeting is for. To figure one out," Romlyn replied. 

"No, no," Grelka sneered. "You said you  _ had _ a plan. So what is it?" 

Romlyn gulped. 

"I think I might be able to help," Damon spoke up, his voice squeaking. Damon made such a low impression on Romlyn that he had almost forgotten about him. The young Redguard was small, thin. It was hard to believe he'd ever been a guard. Romlyn guessed that armor did a lot in bulking him up. 

Grelka laughed. 

"No really," Damon insisted. "A lot of the guards aren't happy with this situation either. I might be able to get them on our side." 

"What do you mean?" Brand-Shei asked. 

"Yeah, why should we trust them to help us? They're the ones fighting for her,  _ against _ us," Tythis agreed. 

Damon gulped. "Well, it's like Mjoll said to me all those months ago. They have more in common with us than they'll ever have with Maven. I've been hearing that her money's drying up thanks to our efforts. If she can't pay them, they have no incentive to work for her." 

Romlyn nodded, encouraging the young man to continue. 

"And I've been hearing from--from some of my friends that, well, she is  _ not _ pleasant to work for. Jarl Laila at least let them have days off. Maven makes them train all day on their 'days off.' Lemka can't even spend time with her new daughter!" Damon's indignation was clear. He thought of these guards as whole people, friends even. Romlyn couldn't fathom. But then, what if he was right? 

"I'm  _ not _ working with guards," Tythis spat. "Not after what they did to Keerava." 

Damon exhaled. "Don't you see? This is what she wants. She  _ wants  _ to turn us against each other! They were scared, too. Maven has always been in command of the guard, even before she killed Jarl Laila. If you thought she was good to them, you were sorely mistaken." He laughed haughtily. "If you don't get over yourselves, we will  _ all _ suffer. Are they not your people, too?" 

"Not when they kill us and face no repercussions." Tythis crossed his arms. 

"People like Maven will never accept people like us because they hate something about us that we can't change," Madesi spoke carefully, choosing his words deliberately. "If all we are against is the ideas that they hold: greed at the expense of personhood, that the strong have the right to abuse the weak, that the weak aren't worth anything at all; if we are against those ideas, then why can't they join if they purge those ideas? After all, Maven is the type to brainwash any half-decent person into a monster. What if you found yourself in her spiderweb, and looked back at yourself in the mirror, disgusted by what you saw? And then, once you had finally come to your senses, you tried to join the people who were doing something about it, and they shunned you, too? That could turn them back to Maven, even more loyal than they had originally been." 

Madesi took a breath. 

"We are against an idea that says you are always one thing, and that one thing is either valuable or not, and you can never change. If we can't understand that people are complicated, then what are we doing?" He bowed his head, looking down at the scales on his hands. 

Water dripped in the Ratway, echoing off every chamber wall. 

"I'm not saying that we should accept the ones who  _ don't  _ renounce the guard and Maven. But the ones who do?" Madesi shrugged. "We could use the numbers." 

_______________

  
  


Damon climbed the Keep wall, pressed firmly against the jutting stone. He glanced down, and the world around him lurched. His stomach fluttered like a tapestry in the breeze, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to climb higher.  _ One foot in a nook, now the hand, now the other foot. Good. Just like that _ , he told himself. Finally, he reached the Keep window one of the guards had left open for him. Tonight was Damon's first meeting with the few guards who wanted to defect. It was crucial for the future of Riften, and Damon felt the pressure on his shoulders. His people were relying on him. 

He pulled himself into the Mistveil Keep attic, collapsing onto the floor, heart racing, sweat pouring down his brow. He stayed down for a moment, letting his breath even out. Then he pushed to his feet and smoothed his tunic. The rest should be arriving any moment. 

"Damon," a man whispered. 

Damon turned. It was his friend, Talvir. 

"It's good to see you," Talvir said. 

"And you!" Damon clasped the Nord's arms. "Who else is coming?" 

"Lemka, Kyn, and Ulthis, as far as I know." 

Damon frowned. He had expected more, but it was a start. "Good, good." 

After a while, the other three arrived. They talked quietly, their tension and nerves palpable. 

Damon looked out the window, praying to Masser and Secunda for strength. He knew Talvir well; they had been in training together. Talvir was a Nord, through and through. Honor and integrity were important to him, and Damon knew he could use that get Talvir to join him. Lemka and Kyn were both older than him, and they had never really interacted. They were quiet, mostly kept to themselves. It was rumored that Kyn had her eye on Talvir, but Damon never heard anything beyond that. Then there was Ulthis. Ulthis was, as far as Damon knew, a transfer from Whiterun--or was it Windhelm? Either way, he wasn't from Riften, and Damon didn't know him or if he could be trusted, but Talvir vouched for him, and Damon trusted Talvir. 

"My comrades," Damon said, turning towards the four of them. "Thank you for being here. I know you're taking a risk just by speaking with me." 

They nodded. "It's always good to see you, Damon," Talvir said, smiling. 

"I wanted to talk to you about what's going on in Riften, gauge what your opinions are. What are your thoughts about Maven Black-Briar?" Damon asked. 

Kyn snorted and rolled her eyes. "Maven's a hag. Everyone knows that." 

"She has no honor," Talvir said, gritting his teeth. "She assassinated the Jarl to put herself in charge. That's not the Nord way. I'll bet the softbellied Empire put her up to it!" 

"We got paid a lot better under Jarl Laila," Kyn agreed. 

Ulthis, Damon noticed, was silent, arms crossed over his chest. 

"Ulthis?" Damon prompted. 

"She is not the kind of woman who should be Jarl," Ulthis spoke, voice low and accent thick. His braided beard bobbed as he spoke. "A Jarl should think of the good of her citizens, not of her own coin purse." 

The others nodded and overlapping voices agreed. 

"Tell us about your group," Ulthis said. 

Damon took a breath. "We're trying to liberate Riften from greed, and that includes Maven Black-Briar. We already destroyed the Thieves Guild, so we have a good track record." 

Ulthis nodded, stroking his beard. 

"Your band is just a gang of criminals," Lemka scoffed. "Why should we join them?" 

"It's a Union, and those people are some of the finest people I've ever met." Damon felt his nerves slip away. It was as if Romlyn and the others were standing beside him, cheering him on. "They are good and kind, and they help each other when they're down. They don't step on each other to climb some imaginary ladder. No. They work together and make sure everyone is taken care of. If you joined, you would have to resolve to put the community before yourself, to uphold the idea that people are more valuable than profit. But if you joined, you could be proud of yourself." 

Damon looked at each of the people's faces. Lemka's suspicious expression had melted away to one of curiosity. Talvdir was smiling, blue eyes sparkling. Kyn's eyes were wide, eager. Ulthis had on a steel expression, but there was the slightest tinge in the corner of his mouth that might have been a smile. 

"If you join us, you'll be a part of something bigger than just yourself or your paycheck. We'll be avenging all the ones Maven has killed, and taking the city for  _ ourselves _ , not her business." Damon held out his hands. "What do you say?" 

Ulthis looked at the other three guards. They nodded. "We're in," he replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all this fic is really taking off. I did not ever imagine it would get this much. I am so excited to show what I have in store! Thank you for reading.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in Riften under Jarl Maven Black-Briar is tough, and everyone is feeling the strain. Will the Riften People's Union be able to stay strong during this dark time?

Night fell in Riften, which meant all citizens were expected to stay in their homes.  _ No Fraternizing After Dark _ , the new rule said. In the days since Maven's usurpation of the Jarl's seat, life in Riften had become more impossible than it'd ever been before. 

Romlyn stirred his tea and groaned, exhausted. He had spent all afternoon trying, more like failing, to come up with a plan to free Tabethys and kill Maven. 

A loud knocking pounded at the door. "Guards, open up!" 

"Shit." Romlyn shot up from the table, grateful he hadn't written anything down. He opened the door a crack. "Hello." 

"Step aside. Open up. We need to search the place." The guard pushed his weight against the door, but Romlyn held it steadfast. 

"On what grounds?" he asked. 

"On grounds of the Jarl. Now  _ move, _ elf." 

Three guards pushed into the small apartment. One stayed at the door, axe held in ready position, glaring daggers at Romlyn; the other two circled the room. The one who had so kindly greeted Romlyn flung open the drawers of his wardrobe, throwing clothes and books on the floor. 

"Hey!" Romlyn protested. 

The guard with the axe slammed Romlyn into the wall. Romlyn winced. 

The other guard laughed and tore a page out of  _ Ancestors and the Dunmer _ and threw the book on the floor, stepping on it as he crossed into the sleeping area. 

"I'm pretty sure that book is contraband," one of the guards said. 

"Oh, yeah, now that you mention it, I think it's treasonous material." The other guard picked it up off the floor. "Daedra worship. I'm sure the Jarl will want an explanation for this." 

"Unless of course… you pay us." The guard smiled a toothy grin at Romlyn, eyes gleaming in the hearthfire. 

Romlyn huffed, but dug into his coin purse. He slapped down ten gold. The guard raised his eyebrow. Romlyn grumbled and handed him ten more, and the guard pocketed it with a wink. This felt familiar.

"Pleasure doing business with you," the guard smirked. He stalked out of Romlyn's home, tipping over a chair on his way out, his two accomplices in tow. 

Romlyn balled his fists at his side as he took in the havoc they had wreaked on his home. His clothes were strewn on the floor, now stained with boot marks. A painting he had made was lying face down on the ground, torn. Books littered the room, and pages from  _ Ancestors and the Dunmer  _ were dangerously close to the fire. And his tea was cold. 

Rage threatened to overrun Romlyn, and he clenched his jaw to keep himself from screaming. But there was nothing he could do. He was outnumbered, outgunned, and outsmarted. Romlyn collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by the shreds of his belongings. If Tabethys had been here, he never would have allowed those guards to violate his home. Romlyn fell apart. Sobs wracked his body. Instinctively, he reached out for Tabethys, only this time, there was no one to rub gentle circles on his back and tell him everything would be okay. 

_______________

Romlyn awoke to pounding on his door. 

"Guards, open up!" 

He groaned. Not this again. Slowly, he pulled some pants on and opened the door. 

"What now?" he asked. 

The guard grabbed his shoulder and yanked him out of his house. "Time for work." 

"Work? It's barely sunrise! I haven't even had breakfast yet." 

The guard chuckled. "By the looks of you, skipping one meal won't hurt." 

Romlyn crossed his arms, cheeks burning. 

"The Jarl has decreed twelve hour workdays for all citizens until the city is cleaned," the guard continued, pushing Romlyn up the stairs. "Your shift was scheduled to begin five minutes ago. You're lucky you're not being arrested." 

Romlyn grumbled but didn't say anything. Best to just get it over with. 

In the city center, a few other people were working, shuffling off material into wheeled carts, sweeping charcoal and ash into baskets. Romlyn noticed Maramal and Dinya struggling with a large log and sighed with relief. He hadn't known if they had made it. 

Wordlessly, Romlyn took the middle of the log and helped them carry it to the city gates. Once they were out of earshot, they put the log down. 

"I was so worried about you both," Romlyn said, hugging the priests. 

"Mara guided us," Dinya whispered. 

Maramal placed a steady hand on Romlyn's shoulder. "Where's Tabethys?" 

"The guards had him arrested. Treason, they said." Romlyn scowled. "They should be arresting Maven." 

Maramal nodded and hugged Romlyn again. "We'd better get back," the priest said sadly. 

The sun rose high and Romlyn's muscles ached. There was so much to carry, so much to rebuild. The Bee and Barb, the Honorhall Orphanage, and Haelga's Bunkhouse were unsalvageable, and many other buildings had damage as well. Romlyn thought of the time the townspeople had worked together to clear the skeleton of the dragon Tabethys brought down. How he'd bantered with Marise, how Keerava had served them all food and drinks. There was singing and laughter despite the hard the work. 

This time was different. There were so many gaps in the workforce, so many lives lost. No one had the morale to sing or drink cheerfully. 

Romlyn carried a large pile of rubble, little by little, to a cart. The stable boy, Shadr, came along and helped him, easing his burden with silent understanding. 

Soon, the sun began to set, painting the clouds and sky in its brilliant hues. Despite everything, the sun set in the west and would rise in the east come morning. Every time it did, it gave its beauty to the people. It made Romlyn feel small, insignificant. He looked over at the workers, who were resting now that the twelve hour shift was done. Maramal rubbed Dinya's feet; Brand-Shei and Talen-Jei sat silently at the foot of the well. Romlyn sighed and sank to the ground, his throbbing feet a welcome distraction from the gnawing hole of Tabethys's and Marise's absence. 

Lightheaded and dizzy with hunger and thirst, Romlyn laid down on the ground, watching as dust floated by in the gentle breeze. 

"Here," Shadr said, handing him a waterskin. 

Romlyn sat up. "Thank you." 

The water was welcome relief for his dry throat. 

"Have you heard from Marise?" Shadr asked. 

Romlyn set the waterskin down. "I'm sorry, Shadr." 

Shadr looked at him, brown eyes glistening with uncried tears. "She… We were supposed to go to the Bee and Barb. I was coming to get her when the mercenaries attacked." He choked. "I never even saw her." 

Romlyn frowned in pity and put his arm around Shadr. 

_______________

Teldryn grunted as his sword connected with yet another Draugr. He and his fire atronach blasted twin flames at two more. Every time he knocked one down, another took its place. Waves and waves of the damn things. As Teldryn pushed on, the herd thinned out. Finally, the last one fell to his sword. Its rotten flesh stunk, and Teldryn scowled. This wasn't as exciting as he thought it would be. 

He emerged from the crypt, his employer hunched over a map and some journals. 

"That should be all of them," Teldryn said flatly. 

"Excellent," Ralis Sedarys replied absent-mindedly. 

"Do you still need me, or…?" 

"Hm?" Ralis looked up from his work. "Oh. Yes, yes. Stay in case the workers dig up any more of the damn things." 

So Teldryn stayed. He plunked down in a chair and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of pickaxes striking against stone, ash sifting against ash, and the gentle moans of a Netch off in the distance. 

Somewhere between awake and asleep, Teldryn finally allowed himself to think of Tabethys. Tabethys… and Romlyn. Without the fog of Sujamma, Teldryn thought back to the day he left Riften. The way Romlyn gazed at Tabethys, no hint of ownership or anger or jealousy like Teldryn felt. He thought of how Tabethys had looked back at Romlyn, soft and tender, love clearly written on his face. Tabethys, and the way his Nordic accent twinkled in his words and the way his violet eyes pierced through guarshit with razor sharp accuracy. Tabethys, and his pure heart, filled with the courage that most men wished they had even a sliver of. 

Tabethys made Teldryn feel warmer, happier. But now he was gone, and Teldryn was here, killing Draugr and feeling very much like one himself. A heavy feeling washed over Teldryn, like he'd just been dunked into an ice cold bath. Tabethys was gone. 

"Teldryn!" Ralis barked, emerging from the crypt. "More Draugr." 

Nothing like the threat of death to wash away a thick melancholy. 

Teldryn drew his sword and entered the crypt, lazily pulling flames into his other hand. A Draugr rushed him, ancient Nord sword held aloft. Teldryn blasted fire at it. It stumbled, but quickly recovered, its ancient blade connecting with Teldryn's chitin armor. Teldryn tsked at it and slashed, relieving it of its head. Another Draugr came forth, this one wielding an ancient axe. Before it could even swing its axe, Teldryn blasted two fireballs, and its charred remains clattered to the ground. There was barely a spike in Teldryn's mood. 

He reemerged from the crypt, wiped some dust off his shoulders, and looked at the chair he'd been sitting in. 

This was a mistake; he should be with Tabethys. Romlyn or no Romlyn, romance or romance, his friendship with Tabethys was the one good thing Teldryn had in life. He wasn't going to let his ego get in the way of that. He started back towards Raven Rock, leaving the Draugr and the expedition behind. 

"Hey!" Ralis shouted. "Where are you going?!" 

"I quit!" Teldryn called over his shoulder. 

_______________

Marise stood outside the Llanith family farm, the sun's reflection off the bright white snow blinding her. It was the first fresh air she'd gotten since the siege, and she relished it. She breathed in deep, the shock of cold air filling her stale lungs. 

"I think we need to head back," Marise said to Ungrien. 

He shuddered, whether from anxiety or from the cold, Marise couldn't tell. "There's no telling what we'll find when we go back," Ungrien cautioned. 

"I know." She wondered if she would find Shadr dead like all those other people, like Nivenor. She wondered if Jarl Laila had managed to defend the city, if Romlyn and Tabethys made it back from Solstheim with Teldryn in time to save them. "It could be better than we thought." 

Ungrien sighed and looked at the city. The walls were still standing, and the docks had more ships in them than they did before. Workers rolled barrels off one of the ships. 

"Let's go," Marise said, looking back at Ungrien. He nodded, and together, they left the safety of the Llaniths' and started towards Riften. 

The noise of the docks grew louder as they approached, and Marise realized she didn't recognize any of the workers. "Hello," she said, approaching one of them. 

He grunted at her and continued rolling a barrel. 

"Are you new to Riften?" she asked. 

"Hardly," he scoffed. "I worked here last year, but we had to shut down production. Now it's back up again, so here I am." 

Marise and Ungrien exchanged looks. Marise nodded to the worker, and he continued rolling his barrel away. Then she started up the steps to the gate, walking as nonchalantly as she could. She opened the gates and stepped into the city, face falling as she beheld the ruins. 

The well was still standing, only barely. The market stands were all in tatters, and although it looked like some cleaning had been done, there were still ruins everywhere. Splintered boards and nails littered the streets; tattered linens and books fluttered in the wind; piles of ash and dried bloodstains marked the ground. It was haunting. The bright daylight and untrampled snow in the corners seemed to accentuate the remnants of the massacre. 

"Marise?" someone said. Marise turned. Before she could register who it was, Romlyn crashed into her, holding her tightly, sobbing onto her shoulder. 

"Marise! I thought you were dead!" he blubbered. "It's been four days! Where were you?" 

"I was at the Llaniths'. Ungrien and I were lucky enough to escape the siege. Unfortunately, not everyone else was as lucky…" Marise's voice trailed off as the image of the dead child's hand flashed in her mind. 

"Marise?!" Shadr cried. He ran over to her and grabbed her hands. "Praise Mara! I was so worried." 

"Oh, Shadr, I'm so glad you're okay," Marise said, throwing her arms around him. 

"Get to work!" a guard shouted, brandishing his axe. 

Marise and Shadr snapped apart, and they followed Romlyn to a pile of rubble. Shadr handed rubble to Marise, who handed it to Romlyn, who took the full cart out of the city. Between exchanges, Marise and Shadr rubbed knuckles. It was all Marise wanted to abandon the workday and sneak off with Shadr, but the guards were watching, and everyone knew it. 

After they finished one pile of rubble, it was on to the next. And then the next. It was arduous, mind-numbing work, but Marise was happy to be helping her community. 

As the sun began to set, the workers finished the last of their shift and quietly shuffled off to their homes. After a long day of back-breaking work, no one was feeling up for socializing. Marise ambled home, too tired to care that her place had been tossed, and collapsed face first on her bed, snoozing as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

_______________

  
  


Tabethys rocked on the ground, nursing a tender new bruise a guard had given him. He hadn't even done anything to deserve it. One of the nicer guards had offered him a weak healing salve, mentioning that the guard who had beaten him was just an asshole.  _ Don't take it personally _ , she had said. Hard not to take it personally when he had spat slurs at Tabethys the whole time. 

Blood lay thick on his tongue, and the gag in his mouth prevented him from spitting it out. He shuffled to the rickety chair his jail cell offered and sat down, cradling his pounding head in his hands. Jail bread and water was not nearly enough for him to live on. He was weak. He was pathetic. A sob cracked his throat. This must have been how Romlyn felt all those days in the Ratway. Trapped, caged like an animal. 

He was going stir-crazy, and it had only been four days. Tabethys closed his eyes, imagining the laughter of his friends and Romlyn's warm hand interlaced in his own. It was the only thing keeping him going. 

"Food," a guard barked, sliding him a plate of stale bread and a cup of water. 

Tabethys jumped at the sound of the guard's voice, his pleasant fantasy fading away. He opened his eyes, and the image of a sunkissed Romlyn was replaced by moss-caked stone, steel bars, and a guard's expressionless mask. He leaned into the bars, and the guard ripped the gag out of his mouth. Tabethys worked his jaw and tongue, grateful for the moment of relief. 

"Eat," the guard ordered. 

The guard walked away, not caring that the single piece of bread had fallen off the plate onto the disgusting ground. Tabethys sighed. Realistically, the plate was probably no cleaner than the ground. He reached down and grabbed the bread, taking a greedy bite. Had he sunk so low that stale bread from the ground of a jail cell was as delicious as a Jarl's feast? With great effort, Tabethys swallowed. Suddenly, he wasn't very hungry anymore. 

A few moments later, the guard returned and shoved the gag back in his mouth. 

Tabethys stared at the wall, imagining the cracks in it were drawings, and let his mind wander. He closed his eyes, thinking about all the adventures he and Romlyn could go on when this was over. They could leave Riften, just start walking somewhere, explore any cave or ruins their whims desired. They could go back to the hot springs. 

Tabethys sighed. The hot springs. He wondered what Romlyn would look like naked, sprawled out on the rocks, warm water bubbling over him. He wondered if Romlyn liked to give or receive. What would their first time together be like? He imagined Romlyn as a generous lover, confident and sure of himself, gentle and guiding. He wouldn't be demanding or pushy like other lovers Tabethys'd had. 

He wouldn't be disgusted by Tabethys. 

Romlyn would be soft and gentle, planting kisses all along Tabethys's body, even the parts Tabethys didn't like, the parts his previous lovers had recoiled from. He would see Tabethys fully, and dive in, taking him, filling him completely, arms around him, kissing him inside. Tabethys shuddered. Just the thought of someone loving him completely was overwhelming, and he felt his desire mounting. 

Of course it had to happen now, when he was all alone in this putrid jail cell, and not when they had been gallivanting across eastern Skyrim. 

Tabethys huffed, frustrated now without the prospect of relief, and more than a little disgusted with himself. He hadn't bathed since Solstheim, and he was starting to be able to smell himself. The guards didn't allow him to leave his cell for any reason, and there certainly wasn't a wash basin in his cell. He was lucky to have a bucket to relieve himself in. 

Gods, he missed Romlyn. His crooked smile, lilted voice, and soft white-blond hair. Tabethys felt a tear slip down his cheek. 

Talos, why did this have to happen? What had he done to deserve this? Tabethys wanted to shout that mortal-divine out of the sky and throttle him.  _ You made me this way! Why did you forsake me?! _ he wanted to ask. He was meant for greater things than this jail cell. He was meant to help people, to feel the sunlight on his cheeks, Romlyn's hands on his waist, and to put the fear of militant kindness in cruel people's hearts, not to rot in a jail cell manned by a corrupt Jarl. 

Mjoll sneezed, and Tabethys jumped. He had forgotten she was there; she was so quiet. He watched as she rolled over on the pile of hay in her cell, snoring lightly in her sleep. How could she sleep so soundly in this place? Was she not feeling on edge, ready to fight at any moment? Was she not going stir-crazy, having not seen the sun or felt the breeze in days? 

The wall bowed before Tabethys, seeming to come to life.  _ Imagine a day where you never have to see me again _ , it said.  _ I'm all you know, and you're all I know. We are companions now, you and I.  _

The moss seeped through the cracks dripping, turning to liquid. The green sludge morphed into an arm, a hand, bigger than Tabethys, bigger than Riften. It grabbed him, held him aloft, close to the sun. It burned! The sun had been all he'd wished for, but now it was burning him! The searing hot flames stabbed through Tabethys's knees, his shins, burning the hair on his body away. His skin boiled, bubbled, turned into vapor, and all that was left of Tabethys was bones. 

_ Is this what you wanted?  _ the wall asked.  _ Is this how you wanted to die?  _

_______________

Romlyn slinked out of his house, pressing against the wall, allowing the dark of night to cloak him. Even though he wasn't going far, if he was caught out after dark, the guards would surely beat him. The thrill of it almost made him happy. 

He scampered across the canal, boots quiet as the whispering of secret lovers, and pushed open the door to the Ratway. The tunnels still made him uncomfortable, but ever since the Union had started meeting there, it was more tolerable. Still, as he passed by the room that led to one in which he was tortured, he shivered. 

"Romlyn, glad you could make it," Marise greeted him. They embraced quickly. 

"Is anyone else coming?" Marise asked, surveying the group. 

Brand-Shei, Damon, Ungrien, Madesi, Balimund, and Grelka were all standing around a table, shouting about something. Svana Fair-Shield stood off to the side, looking them. Shadr stood by her, talking about something Romlyn couldn't quite hear. 

"This is all that's left," Romlyn said. "Bolli and Aerin didn't make it, and Mjoll's in jail." 

"Well, at least we have some new members." Marise gestured to Shadr and Svana. 

"--telling you, it won't work!" Grelka shouted. 

"It would if you would  _ listen  _ to me!" Damon shouted back. 

Romlyn cleared his throat. "Hey, hey, what's going on?" 

"She won't take any suggestions from me at all," Damon blurted, pointing at Grelka. 

"I would take your suggestions if they weren't  _ asinine, _ " Grelka shot back, glaring at him. 

"Hey!" Romlyn said, raising his voice. "We have two new members today. Is this really the first impression you want to set?" Romlyn turned to Svana and Shadr. 

"Welcome! It's always good to see new faces," Romlyn greeted them. 

"I never would have come if I'd known it was in the Ratway," Svana sneered. "But I guess it's alright. Better than doing nothing at all." 

Romlyn smiled at her. "Well, it wasn't our first choice of a meeting place, but we have to lie low." 

"So what's the agenda for today?" Madesi asked. 

"Damon said he made progress with some of the guards.," Romlyn said. "They're willing to leave and help us once we get more support within the guard, which they're also willing to talk with other guards about." 

"Yeah," Damon added, "I talked to some of them, and they're as fed up with Maven as we are. They liked Jarl Laila, and now her murderer is sitting on the throne." 

Grelka snorted. "We liked Keerava, but they didn't join us after they let her murderer go." 

"Yes, Grelka," Romlyn agreed, "you're right. I don't want to work with them, either, but what choice do we have? If you have a way we can take Maven out without their help, I'm all ears, but right now, all I see if a group of people who are ripe for radicalization to our cause, and if we don't include them, they'll join her and become our enemy." 

Grelka said nothing. 

"Okay, then. Can we all agree to suck it up and do what needs to be done?" Romlyn asked. 

Grelka and Brand-Shei muttered but didn't voice any opposition. 

"Thank you," Romlyn said. "Damon, please continue." 

"Yeah, so anyways…" 

Damon told them about his daring climb up the side of Mistveil Keep, and about the three people who had come. Romlyn had high hopes that one of them, Ulthis, would be able to gain the support of most of the guards. It would be tough; some of the guards were nothing but cruel, but for the ones who had gotten bait-and-switched, Romlyn hoped they would jump on board. 

Until then, the only thing they could do was wait. 

_______________

Romlyn lay alone in his room that night, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. He huffed in frustration. He didn't like this waiting game. Everything about this plan hinged on a detail he didn't trust and couldn't control. Quite frankly, it was a long shot, and he didn't believe it would work. Damon was one thing: a kid who had barely been in the guard long enough to become corrupted, but a whole group of them? It made Romlyn nervous. More nervous than he'd like to admit. 

Maybe Grelka was right. Maybe inviting guards into the Union was a bad idea. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and besides, Madesi had made a good point. If they didn't recruit the guards, Maven would, and that would definitely be worse. 

Romlyn turned over in his bed, facing the wall. He thought of Tabethys, how alone and stranded he must feel. Romlyn hadn't even been allowed to visit. He had waited at the door to the jail during his lunch break, begging to be let in. The guards had turned him away. 

That was yet another reason Romlyn didn't want them in the Union. Whenever they had the option to help, they ignored it in favor of the rules, whatever the rules may be. Didn't they understand that just because something was a law didn't make it was the right thing to do? Had they no moral compass? Romlyn could never imagine blindly following the word of an authority. He wondered what could drive a person to do that. 

He imagined for a moment that he was that kind of person. Perhaps it was easier, doing what someone else told you to do, rather than having to think for yourself and make those hard choices. Do you stand up for what you believe in against someone with more power and authority? Or do you cave and do what they tell you, even if you know that what they tell you is wrong, eventually convincing yourself that it isn't wrong? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I am so excited. I finished writing the climax, and now I'm writing the final chapter. I can confidently say there are 18 chapters, and this story will be finished. I am super proud of myself because this is actually the first story I've ever finished. Oh, and I'm already planning a sequel for you. I am so grateful for all your reads, kudos, and comments. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teldryn makes his return to Riften and helps straighten some things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: explicit smut

The horse-drawn cart rocked along the uneven pathway to the clopping of hooves. Teldryn swayed along with it, alert and ready. The driver had looked at him like he was crazy when he booked passage to Riften from Windhelm. 

"You haven't heard?" he'd asked. 

"Heard what?" 

"Riften is burned down. They say Maven Black-Briar came in the night with an army of mercenaries and took control of the city. They say she killed Jarl Laila." 

Teldryn's heart had sunk. "What?" 

The driver had told him about the massacre, as people were calling it, and how the other Jarls were too busy with the civil war and the dragon threat to do anything about it. The empire had welcomed her with open arms, he'd said. Teldryn took that last comment with a grain of salt; he  _ was  _ in Windhelm. 

But now, as they passed through the Fall Forest, Teldryn could smell the smoke. Even after five days, it was still overpowering; it made Teldryn a little bit nostalgic for Blacklight. 

They pulled up to the stables, and Teldryn hopped off. 

"Be careful in there," the driver warned as Teldryn tipped him. 

Teldryn nodded and approached the gate, bracing himself for a levelled town, ready for it to stir up memories of the Red Year he had been lucky to escape. Would there be anything left at all?

"Halt!" the guard at the front gate shouted. "You need to pay the visitor's tax." 

"Visitor's tax?" Teldryn chuckled. "You don't seriously expect me to believe that." 

The guard faltered. "Alright, alright, I'll let you in. Just don't be too loud about it!" 

The guard opened the gate, and Teldryn sighed with relief. It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd been picturing it. The market stalls were being rebuilt, and a couple of buildings were gone, but almost everything else was unchanged. A few people milled around, carrying supplies and working on repairs. It was much quieter than it had been before. 

Teldryn walked up to one of the workers, a Redguard man he didn't recognize. "Where's a tavern around here?" 

"Oh, well, both taverns were recently burned down," the Redguard muttered. "But they're serving drinks at the Black-Briar Meadery." 

Black-Briar. Teldryn gritted his teeth behind his scarf. "Thanks." 

He passed by Balimund's shop, the tang of molten metal making his eyes water, and approached the Meadery. He was a little surprised to see there wasn't a single speck of damage to it, especially considering the buildings all around it were destroyed or nearly destroyed. But then, Maven was to blame for this, and she wouldn't want to burn down her own business. He pushed the door open, and was greeted by an older Dunmer with a pinched face. 

"Welcome to the Black-Briar Meadery," the Dunmer said. "Name's Indaryn, and if you need anything, I will be happy to help." 

Indaryn. He'd heard that name before. "Where's Maven Black-Briar?" 

"The Jarl is in her keep at this hour, but I can help you if you need anything." Indaryn picked up a bottle and showed it to Teldryn. "This is a new blend, and it's right fantastic." 

"No thanks," Teldryn said. He wasn't about to touch that Skooma-infested slop. Teldryn pulled his scarf down so Indaryn could see that he was a Dunmer, too. "What's your opinion of Maven Black-Briar, brother?" 

Indaryn leaned back. "She's a fair employer and a good Jarl." 

Teldryn crossed his arms. "It's okay, you can be honest." 

"I  _ am _ being honest. Maven Black-Briar is strong, but just and fair. She built this business with her own two hands, and I'm happy to work for her," Indaryn insisted. 

"I know she's not a good employer. Her last bartenders were all killed by the Dark Brotherhood, weren't they?" Teldryn pointed out. 

Indaryn narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Teldryn Sero." 

Indaryn backed away. "You… You helped with that riot! The one where Lady Black-Briar's house was burned down! Guards!  _ Guards!" _

Teldryn cursed under his breath and darted out of the Meadery. So maybe Indaryn wouldn't be any help. 

Teldryn meandered through the plaza, looking for anyone with a familiar face. Cursed people, why hadn't he paid more attention to their faces during the Union meetings? He needed Tabethys, and he was getting increasingly worried the longer he didn't see him. 

His heart caught in his throat. What if Tabethys had been killed? No, Teldryn shook that thought out of his head. Tabethys was strong and capable; he could kill dragons and entire hordes of Draugr on his own. There was no way a few mercs could get him. 

As Teldryn rounded the corner into an alley, he saw someone he recognized. A Dunmer woman in a pink apron and a hat. 

"Hi," Teldryn said quietly, approaching her. What was her name? 

"Oh, hello, Teldryn!" she greeted him enthusiastically. "I thought you were on Solstheim?" 

"I was, but I came back. Have you seen Tabethys? What happened?" 

Her face fell and with it, Teldryn's stomach. "I'm sorry, Teldryn. Tabethys is in jail. No one's been able to see him." 

"Jail?" Teldryn repeated. His heart beat again. Tabs wasn't dead; as long as he was alive, they could figure out the rest. 

"Yes. Romlyn tells me he was arrested when they arrive in the city last week." 

"Thank you, sera." Teldryn bowed and ducked out. He still didn't remember her name. 

Luckily, he did remember where Romlyn lived. He jogged down the stairs and knocked on the door. 

Romlyn yanked the door open. "Today is my  _ one _ day off, so you can tell--Oh. Teldryn, I wasn't expecting you." 

"Clearly." 

"Please, come in." Romlyn stepped aside, allowing Teldryn into the small apartment. "Why are you here?" 

Teldryn pulled his scarf down and set his helmet on the table. "I wanted to come back. Tabethys is my friend. I didn't… I didn't know what had happened." 

Romlyn crossed his arms. "Some friend you are, leaving him high and dry. He came all the way to Solstheim for you, and you wouldn't even come back with him." 

"I don't owe you an explanation." Teldryn gritted his teeth. Who did that little fetcher think he was, lecturing Teldryn? 

Romlyn scoffed. "Clearly." 

"What's your plan to get Tabethys out of jail?" Teldryn demanded. 

Romlyn raised an eyebrow. "Why should I tell you?" 

"You need my help. Obviously." 

"What makes you think we need your help?" 

Now it was Teldryn's turn to scoff. "If you didn't, he would be out of jail by now." 

Romlyn turned away, stirring something in the cooking pot. "It's handled. Why don't you just run back to Solstheim?" 

"No." Teldryn tapped his foot. "I'm here. I'm staying. Now are you gonna let me help you get Tabethys out of jail, or would you rather he rot there for another week?" 

_______________

The Ratway smelled awful. Teldryn held his scarf up to his nose. Better the scent of his own sweat than the stale, choking aroma of feces and stagnant water. 

"I don't think we have enough support yet," a Redguard man said. 

"It'll have to do, Damon" Romlyn insisted. "We can't keep waiting around forever. People are starving, dying. We found Edda dead this morning… her body was frozen solid. We have to take action  _ now _ ." 

Teldryn hung back, preferring to observe rather than get involved. 

Brand-Shei, the Argonian-raised Dunmer, Teldryn remembered him, approached Damon. "You've done your best. Half of the guard should be plenty to be able to carry it out." 

"What if I could get the other half on board," Teldryn said. 

All eyes snapped to him. 

"How?" Romlyn asked. 

"I could go undercover and say that I'm a transfer, start beating the shit out of one of them, a real alpha type, say that Maven told me do it." Teldryn chuckled. "Nothing like an interloper subjugating one of their own to make a group of imbeciles want to revolt faster." 

Romlyn gawked at Teldryn, open mouthed. Brand-Shei blinked. 

"You know," Grelka said, "that might actually work." 

_______________

Teldryn spun around in Marise's living room, donning a full set of Riften guard armor. He didn't ask how Grelka got ahold of it; he'd been with Tabethys long enough to know that mysterious armor for free probably came from disgusting and unfortunate circumstances. 

"How do I look?" he asked. 

"Disgusting," Grelka spat. 

"Convincing," Marise offered. 

"I'd do him," Shadr shrugged. Marise smacked his arm playfully. 

Teldryn bowed. "Thank you, Shadr. At least  _ someone  _ appreciates me." 

He dipped out of the house and walked down the alley. One of the guards nodded to him as he passed. 

"Nice evening," the guard said. 

"Yeah," Teldryn replied, trying to mimic the Nord accent. 

Teldryn kept walking towards the barracks. That's probably where the head guard would be. Doing rounds was gruntwork. Another guard nodded to him as they walked past each other. 

The barracks were at the base of the Keep, and there were a few guards drinking mead (Black-Briar -- disgusting) in the courtyard. 

"Hey!" Teldryn barked at them. "Why are you drinking on the job?" 

The guards dropped their drinks and stood up. "Sorry, sir!" 

"See that it doesn't happen again." 

"Yes, sir!" 

Teldryn chuckled. Oh, he could get used to this. 

He pushed the door to the barracks open. Three guards sat at a table playing cards, drinking mead. Another sat in a corner, rifling through what looked like contraband. She picked up a gem, inspected it, then pocketed it. 

"What in Talos' name is going on here?!" Teldryn shouted. He was really getting into character on this one. 

The guards looked up at him. "What do you mean?" 

Teldryn scoffed. "I don't know how Jarl  _ Laila  _ did things, but under Jarl Maven, we'll be doing it a bit different." 

One of the guards stood up and squared his shoulders. "Oh, yeah, tough guy? And just who are you to tell us how we'll be 'doing things?'" 

Found the hothead. Now, who was the ring leader? 

"I'm the guy the Jarl hired to put you in your place." Teldryn crossed his arms, playing into the hothead's indignation. "And from the looks of this place, you clearly need me." 

The hothead roared. One the card-playing guards stood up, placing a cautionary hand on the hothead's shoulder. 

"Bjorn," he said sternly. 

Found the ring leader. 

"I'm Stendyl," the ring leader said. "I'm the Captain of this guard. Perhaps we should go in my office and discuss these matters privately." 

Teldryn reared his fist back and punched Captain Stendyl in the nose, knocking him to the ground. The Captain cried out, touched his nose, and pulled back bloody fingers. 

"Maven Black-Briar sends her regards," Teldryn spat down at him. Teldryn spun around to face the guards. "From now on, things are gonna change around here. No mead on the job. No playing cards on the job. And no  _ stealing _ from the evidence chest." 

The guards looked at each other. Teldryn could almost read their thoughts. He smiled behind his guard's mask. His work here was complete. 

_______________

Tabethys drifted in an out of sleep. In his waking moments he nibbled on stale bread and forced tepid water down his throat. Sometimes he dreamed of Romlyn. Romlyn's body. His warm flesh, soft hair, flashing eyes. His hands. Oh, Romlyn had the nicest hands. He dreamed of those hands cradling him, caressing him. And then he would wake up, and the moss on the wall would smile at him, a cruel face painted in its crests and valleys. 

How many days went on like this, Tabethys didn't know. But one day, he was deep in sleep, dreaming again of kissing Romlyn. With the sweet taste of passion still on his lips, he jumped awake to the sound of his cell door unlocking. 

It was dark in the jail. Night time. The guards never came in at night unless they were looking to beat someone. Tabethys whimpered. 

"Come on," a guard hissed. The dim moonlight twinkled in the metal of her helmet. "You're getting out of here. Both of you." 

That was when Tabethys noticed Mjoll standing just behind the guard. The guard yanked the gag out of Tabethys's mouth.

"Go to the Ratway," the guard whispered. "The Riften People's Union is waiting for you both there." 

Tabethys didn't ask questions. He followed the guard out of the jail, and when she shut the door behind him and Mjoll, he stood in the snow, barefooted, and stared open-mouthed at the sky. He breathed in, the sharp winter air piercing his lungs. How many days had it been since he had breathed anything other than the stale air of the jail? Since he had tasted something other than rancid cloth? Tabethys resisted the urge to collapse in the snow. He was still weak. He hadn't eaten anything but old bread in days, and he felt the effects strongly now that he was standing. 

Mjoll started off towards the Ratway, and Tabethys quietly followed her. A guard nodded to them as they passed by. Tabethys gawked. What had happened? 

The pair descended the stairs, and Tabethys stopped outside of Romlyn's door. He wanted to go in and sleep, curl up into Romlyn's arms. Forget the Ratway. He pushed on the door, but it was locked. 

"Tabethys," Mjoll hissed. Tabethys jerked his head towards her. That was the first time she had spoken since they'd been in jail. She gestured to the Ratway, and Tabethys reluctantly followed her in. The last place he wanted to be after getting out of jail was the sewers. 

They meandered through the Ratway, across the wooden drawbridge, and into the Ragged Flagon. Everyone was standing there, wide smiles across their faces. 

Romlyn ran to Tabethys, tears running freely down his face, and wrapped his arms around him. Tabethys broke, dissolved into tears, and clung to Romlyn, sobbing and shaking. Romlyn held him, stroking his long, dirty hair. 

"I was so worried about you," Romlyn whispered. 

Tabethys pulled back and smiled at him. "I was worried about you, too." 

"There's someone else here, too," Romlyn said. "Someone who made this possible." 

"Who?" Tabethys furrowed his brow. 

Teldryn emerged from the shadows, a proud smirk across his face. "It's been a while, outlander." 

Tabethys gasped and ran to Teldryn, throwing his arms around him. Teldryn sputtered under the weight of the embrace. 

"I thought you were in Solstheim!" Tabethys cried. 

"I couldn't stay away. You're my best friend, and that means you're stuck with me," Teldryn quipped. 

Tabethys laughed through his tears. 

"Mjoll," Grelka said, approaching the stoic woman. She handed her a tarnished silver necklace with a ruby inlay. "It was all I managed to get from his body. I'm sorry." 

Mjoll's lip quivered as she took the necklace. She enclosed it in her fist, and then then turned so Grelka could put it on her. 

"It was his mother's," Mjoll said softly. "Thank you Grelka. I'm sure he would be happy to know it was retrieved." 

"Alessandra said to tell you he's interred, and you can visit if you want to." Grelka clasped Mjoll's hand in hers for a moment, and then quickly pulled away. Grelka glared over at the rest of the Union members, her face reverting back to its natural scowl, her eyes flashing as if to say,  _ none of you saw anything.  _

"Back to business then," Romlyn said. "Damon, what have you been hearing from the guards? Are any more of them ready to defect and join us?" 

Damon nodded. "You'll be pleased to know that my contacts have been able to start cells of their own. I don't know exactly who is on each cell--we agreed it was safer to minimize the amount of people who knew names. No one knows everyone who is a part of it. But I do know that we have well over half the guard on our side with more joining every day." 

Romlyn beamed. "You've done well." 

"Really, I can't take all the credit. I couldn't have done it without Teldryn," Damon said. 

"No sera, all I did was knock some teeth in. You're the one who organized them," Teldryn contradicted. 

"Okay, okay, enough with the posturing. It's making me sick," Grelka groaned. "What's the  _ plan _ ." 

"We'll need a few days to implement it and for Mjoll and Tabethys to recuperate, but I think we can pull it off," Romlyn said, his fingers interlaced with Tabethys's. 

As they hammered out the details, Tabethys's attention drifted away. He looked over at Mjoll, who was intently focused on the meeting. Her blue eyes sparkled with the hope of bringing Maven to justice, and she moved animatedly as she offered suggestions. The sparkle was only on the surface, though; between moments of near-joy, her face fell and her shoulders slumped as she rubbed her thumb over the ruby on Aerin's necklace. Tabethys hoped that with time, she could find peace. 

_______________

  
  


The fire crackled softly in the hearth. Tabethys snuggled up against Romlyn, enjoying the warmth of his body. Romlyn gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead, and Tabethys felt his heart skip a beat. 

"This was all I could think about when I was in jail," Tabethys said softly. "It was the only thing keeping me going.  _ You  _ were the only thing keeping me going." He looked up at Romlyn. 

Romlyn met his gaze, ruby eyes sparkling in the firelight. "What do you mean?" 

Tabethys smiled and shook his head playfully. "Kissing you, being held by you. If I didn't have you to think about when I was there, I don't know what would have happened." 

"That's what you were thinking about while you were in jail? I wish I could have given you something better to think about. Maybe… a memory." Romlyn gave Tabethys a look that made him want to melt into a puddle right there on the bed. 

Tabethys suppressed a moan. "Yeah?" 

Romlyn kissed him, long and sweet, just as tender as Tabethys had dreamed it would be. He reached up and cupped Romlyn's face, pulling him closer. Warmth bloomed in Tabethys's chest, and he sighed. Romlyn pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. 

The warm feeling turned to ice. 

"Before we do anything else, I have to tell you something." 

Romlyn drew back, his hand still on the back of Tabethys's neck, concern filling his eyes. "What is it, dear?" 

Tabethys took a deep breath. This was the point of no return. "I have to tell you why I came to Riften in the first place." 

"Okay," Romlyn encouraged, his brow arched. 

"I… came to see the face changer." 

Romlyn didn't say anything, so Tabethys continued. 

"I didn't used to be able to grow a beard. I didn't go through puberty correctly. And my body… it wasn't… it's not… Well, basically, I changed genders. Not really  _ changed _ , because I've always felt exactly like who I am, but the face changer was able to make me look more like  _ me _ ." Tabethys paused, gauging the look on Romlyn's face. "Do you understand?" 

"I think so," Romlyn said slowly. 

"If you don't want to be with me anymore, I under--" 

"No!" Romlyn interrupted. "No, of course I do. The fact that you changed doesn't change how I feel about you. You are Tabethys, the same as you've always been, like you said." 

The warmth came rushing back through him. He buried his face in Romlyn's neck, squeezing his eyes to hold back tears. He kept expecting Romlyn to jerk away, to change his mind. Maybe he didn't fully understand. 

"I didn't change completely," Tabethys said, his voice muffled. "The face changer could only fix my face and chest, she couldn't change... the rest. The rest of me is still the way it was." 

"That's okay," Romlyn replied, clear and kind, as if he hadn't expected anything different. He stroked Tabethys's hair, running his fingers against his scalp. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Tabethys looked up at Romlyn. "I was afraid." 

"You don't have to apologize for anything. Why were you afraid?" 

Tabethys sighed. "The last person I was with... didn't handle it so well. I hadn't seen the face changer yet, but with my hair tied back and chest bound, I looked like a young man. When he saw I was missing something…" Tabethys let his voice trail off, hoping Romlyn wouldn't press further. 

"Shh, shh," Romlyn cooed, pulling Tabethys in, rubbing slow circles on his back. "It's okay. I'm not him, and I'm not going anywhere." 

Tabethys gripped Romlyn tightly and sobbed. The tears came too fast to stop. He wasn't crying out of grief or sadness for his past, he realized. This was the first time he had ever truly been loved without reservation, and it was overwhelming. Before now, he hadn't known what that meant, only that it was some unattainable fairy tale. It felt  _ good _ . And suddenly, Tabethys understood why people went to war for those they loved. 

Tabethys wiped his eyes and smiled. "I love you," he breathed. 

"I love you, too. So much." Romlyn pressed a kiss onto Tabethys's cheeks, wiping away his tears. "Are you okay?" Romlyn asked, his voice gentle and concerned. Oh, Tabethys could drown in that voice. 

"Yes." Tabethys kissed Romlyn's nose. "Thank you." 

"For what?" 

"For not being disgusted by me." 

"Oh, I could never be disgusted by you." Romlyn hugged him closer. "Except for when you wear the clothes off corpses." 

Tabethys giggled. "Hey, free stuff is always good." 

"Not when it's off a corpse, sorry." 

Tabethys stuck his tongue out. Romlyn turned away to laugh, and when he looked back, Tabethys crashed into him, kissing him desperately. Romlyn gasped and kissed back. Tabethys parted his lips, inviting Romlyn's tongue into his mouth. He savored Romlyn's taste, unique to him and him alone. Tabethys couldn't get enough. He never wanted their kiss to end. He felt Romlyn's hand slide down his waist to the small of his back, gripping his tunic.

"You want to take this off?" Romlyn asked between kisses. 

Tabethys sat up and looked at Romlyn. Romlyn had seen him shirtless before; it shouldn't be a big deal. Except it was. This time was different; this time he  _ knew _ . 

"It's okay if you don't," Romlyn quickly added. 

"I do." Tabethys slipped the tunic off over his shoulders and looked hesitantly at Romlyn. Now that he knew what those scars on his chest were from, would he recoil? Would he push Tabethys away? 

Romlyn smiled and sat up, reaching out to trace the scars on Tabethys's chest. He tugged Tabethys into his lap and kissed his scars softly. "You are a delight." 

Tabethys felt his cheeks and ears flush. He slid his arms around Romlyn's neck and hugged him close. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other. They kissed gently, languidly, savoring each one. Tabethys allowed himself to be vulnerable, to melt into Romlyn's arms. He allowed himself to be kissed, touched, admired. 

When Romlyn lay down again, Tabethys straddled him and remained on top. Romlyn's arousal was evident between them, warm and hard in the fabric of his pants. Tabethys felt his body respond, and he shuddered, rubbing against it. Romlyn grabbed Tabethys's ass to guide him, his touch steady and gentle. 

Tabethys reached between them and took Romlyn's dick into his hands, smiling proudly at the loud groan that escaped Romlyn's lips as he gave it a squeeze. 

"You like that?" he asked coyly. 

Romlyn moaned, nodding vigorously. He looked at Tabethys, eyes shining, biting his lip. Tabethys squeezed it again, more firmly, relishing the look on Romlyn's face. Romlyn reached down and placed his hand over Tabethys's, then he pulled Tabethys's hand away and kissed it. Without dislodging Tabethys from on top, the two of them managed to laughingly work Romlyn’s pants off. 

Tabethys admired Romlyn's cock; it stood at attention, bobbing when Romlyn moved. It was thick and long but not intimidating. The tip was flushed dark rose, and Tabethys felt the overwhelming urge to put it in his mouth. He swooped down and grabbed it at the base, guiding it to his open mouth. He glanced up at Romlyn, whose eyes were closed and mouth was open in anticipation. Tabethys kissed Romlyn from base to tip, savoring the noises it drew from him, then wrapped his lips around that rosy tip and slid down. Up. Down. He lost himself in the motions, the sound of Romlyn's pleasure. He felt a hand on the back of his head, gripping his hair, guiding him. Romlyn gently pulled up on Tabethys's hair, and Tabethys looked up at him. 

"If you want me to last, you have to stop doing that," Romlyn breathed, cheeks and ears flushed deep rose. 

Tabethys grinned and moved to kiss him. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, Tabethys sighed, relaxing onto Romlyn's chest, twirling his fingers in his chest hair. Romlyn placed his hand behind Tabethys's knee and tugged, wordlessly asking to move. A flush crept across Tabethys’ face, all too happy to let Romlyn roll on top of him. 

"May I undress you?" Romlyn asked, his palm flat against Tabethys's stomach, fingertips poised at the top of his pants. Tabethys blushed and nodded, holding his breath. Some part of him still worried Romlyn would change his mind once he saw. But Romlyn showed no indication of stopping as he eagerly undid the buttons holding Tabethys's pants closed, slipped them over his knees, and parted his legs.

"You're perfect," Romlyn breathed. He kissed Tabethys' mouth gently, then his cheek, and then lingered at his neck, nibbling a little bit. Two fingers traced the wetness between his legs, then slowly pushed in. Tabethys moaned and arched into it, digging his nails into Romlyn's back. He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of Romlyn's hands drawing out his pleasure, his teeth at his neck, lacing bright spots through the soft crescendo of lust. 

Crashing waves of pleasure rolled through Tabethys, and Romlyn went harder, faster, stealing the breath out of Tabethys's lungs. 

"Romlyn!" Tabethys gasped, burying his face in Romlyn's shoulder, spreading his legs wider to bare his throbbing wetness to Romlyn. 

"I need you," Tabethys panted. He nibbled Romlyn's ear and grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Please!" 

Romlyn slipped his fingers out of Tabethys, and Tabethys looked down to watch Romlyn stroke his own cock, wetting it with Tabethys's juices. He guided his glistening cock to Tabethys's opening, paused, and slowly, arduously, entered. Heart pounding in his ears, Tabethys gripped Romlyn's face, pressing their foreheads together, matching Romlyn's intense gaze. Breath from their gasps mingled as Romlyn drove deeper in. 

Finally, Romlyn buried himself in Tabethys with a groan. They clung to each other, clawing, pressing into each other. Heartbeats mingled together, skin on skin, sweat, breath, and voice combined as they made love. Tabethys wrapped his legs around Romlyn's waist, drawing them closer together. Nothing mattered but the fullness and warmth between them, the crashing waves rolling over him, the sound of Romlyn calling his name. 

Romlyn's hips stuttered, and they locked eyes. Romlyn pulled out, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, and to Tabethys’s delight, Romlyn came all over his belly, his face contorted in ecstasy, matching each spurt with a gasp. When it was over, Tabethys kissed Romlyn hard and sloppy, lips warm. 

Romlyn pulled back and slipped his fingers back into Tabethys, grinning mischievously. "Your turn." 

He kissed down Tabethys's cum-soaked belly and planted gentle kisses in the wiry hair on his mound. Tabethys gasped as Romlyn's tongue dipped into him, pressed deep, then slid up and circled. It was maddening -- hot and wet. Then Romlyn's lips closed around him, and he began to suck, and Tabethys lost all control.

His head flung back onto the pillow; his hands grasped wildly down, searching for Romlyn. Every cell in his body tingled. One hand found Romlyn’s hair and the other, Romlyn’s hand. Romlyn's fingers interlaced with his own, and Tabethys squeezed, crying out. Romlyn sped up, encouraged by Tabethys's noises. Tabethys thrust his hips up to meet Romlyn's mouth, grunting and panting, calling Romlyn's name. His pleasure was the rising tide of a hot ocean, roaring in the night, its warmth spreading through his body. It was a wave crashing against the jutting rocks of the shore, soaking every surface. Tabethys surrendered to it willingly, rode its waves, allowing Romlyn complete access to his body. Then the tide peaked hard, and he wrapped his legs around Romlyn's head. He gripping Romlyn's hair with both fists now, every muscle in his body contracting and releasing. There was no sound but the pounding of his own heartbeat. 

When it finally subsided and Tabethys relaxed, Romlyn slipped out of his slackened grasp to grab a towel. He wiped them both up and rested his head on Tabethys's chest, tracing his jawline with a feather-light touch. 

They lay quietly, enjoying the sounds of each other’s spent breaths, neither one of them wanting to break the spell. Tabethys twisted a strand of Romlyn's hair in one hand, the other holding Romlyn's hand as it rested it on his chest over his scar. 

"That was amazing," Tabethys finally whispered. 

"Mhmm," Romlyn hummed in agreement. "Definitely something to remember." 

"I didn't know it could be like that," Tabethys said softly. 

"Me neither." Romlyn moved Tabethys's hand to his mouth and placed his lips on it. "The last time I was touched or seen like this was in the Ratway." 

Tabethys clutched Romlyn closer. He was hit with a pang of fear that their lovemaking might have touched a wound without him realizing it, but Romlyn seemed calm. "I'm sorry." 

"I'm glad I can say the last time was this time." Romlyn chuckled. "Until next time, of course." 

Tabethys smiled. "Next time?" 

"If you'll have me." 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." 

They held each other, murmuring about things neither of them would remember in the morning, kissing, touching gently, until Romlyn eventually slid off Tabethys's chest to hold him in his arms, spooning tightly. Romlyn's breathing evened out, and he started lightly snoring. Tabethys lingered awake, wanting to cling to the soul-deep comfort of the moment. He memorized every detail: the fibers of the fur blanket pulled over his shoulders, the soft weight of Romlyn's arm over his waist, Romlyn's light breath on his shoulder, the scent of lust swaddling them both. Tabethys breathed in, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep, a smile stuck on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank [Topsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy) and [JP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jottingprosaist) for beta reading the last scene in this chapter. Your help was very much appreciated!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mjoll has a revelation. Balimund offers his assistance to the Union.

Mjoll left the Ratway and slinked away from the Union, up the stairs and across the quiet city center. Ash from the massacre sifted against the snow. Barefoot and still clothed in rough rags from jail, the cold seared Mjoll's bones. She did not shiver; she was no stranger to the cold. It distracted her from the picture still burned in her mind. She approached the spot where she last saw Aerin, cut open and gutted like a deer. It was empty; no splintered timbers or stray stones cluttered the spot. Empty except for a dark brown stain, imperceptible to any who didn't know what to look for. Mjoll, however, knew what to look for. 

The image flashed in her mind. Seared bone. Blood-painted skin. Stark metal cracking through flesh and linen. Aerin's voice cut off by the gurgle of blood. 

She tore her vision away from the stained cobblestones and thumbed Aerin's ruby necklace. Its dull edges grounded her to the present, but it wasn't enough to keep her from feeling like her soul had drifted off. 

Her eyes fell on the Temple of Mara. Its tattered banners waved in the almost-still wind. When all of this was over, she had told herself, she was going to buy an Amulet of Mara from Maramal and wear it around Aerin. Now she would never get that chance. The Temple wavered as tears filled her eyes. The ground rushed up to meet her as she collapsed, not wanting to stand, not wanting to carry on. 

Around the other members of the Union, she could stay strong. She could be stoic and fierce. But on her own, the facade fell, and she had to confront her pain, her grief. She bit her lip to keep from wailing, but it welled up in her throat. It burst from her lips, sounding more like a hoarse, breathy moan than a true wail. 

Mjoll felt something snap in her soul, like a thread being ripped out by a seam tearer. 

Aerin was gone. He was gone. His ocean blue eyes would never again see bright Skyrim snows. His laughter would never again grace her ears, and his smile was wrapped in linen. Rotting away in a crypt beneath city was his body. It was wrong. He should be swaddled in Mjoll's arms, heart content, safe at last, not locked away in a cold, dark place, his body rotting. Rotting. 

Sacrilege. 

Bile rose in Mjoll's throat. His flesh was being sown from bone, sinew rendered from sinew, and all the while, Maven sat in Mistveil Keep, safe and sound. 

Disgust curled her lip. And Mjoll did what? Whimper on the ground in the snow, sopping wet in stinking rags, crying like a child? What would that fix? Aerin would be ashamed to see her like this. She was strong, a fighter. Was she just going to lie down like a dog while a greedy murderer subjugated her city and oppressed her people? 

No. 

Mjoll was a lioness. And lionesses roar. 

_______________

The house was eerily silent. Thoughts of her and Aerin's laughter at the table and their gentle kisses by the fire drifted through her mind as she sifted through the house like a ghost. A glinting dagger caught her, and she caressed it as she passed. She pushed through the curtains in the basement and lit the fires in the bath, pouring water into the trough. Slipping off her jail rags, she dipped a toe into the warm water. 

She slid into the bath, let the water wash over her, and dunked her head in. The world muted as the water rushed in, and like the dust after a storm, her rage and grief quelled. She emerged from the water and exhaled. The world looked clearer now. 

As she scrubbed away the filth of the past week, Mjoll's thoughts turned. Riften was slipping. Everyone knew it. Aerin's voice punctuated her thoughts,  _ I hope that someday this city will be free from corruption, and we can all live in peace, _ he had said. This city needed to be cleansed. If no one stepped up to do something about it, nothing would get done. Progress was being made, but the Union was still frantic. Someone needed to step forward. 

The water around her turned cloudy with grime, but she felt free. Her hay colored hair shone in the fire; the smell of lavender wafted from her. Mjoll stood, wrapped herself in a soft towel, and padded across the room, drying off in the still air of her home. Aerin's home. 

With a sigh, Mjoll sank down into Aerin's bed. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. It still smelled like him. A sob cleaved itself from her chest, and she allowed it to run. Her sorrow expelled itself from her chest like a roaring river crashing through an ancient dam. She cried until her energy was spent. Surrounded in the comforting scent of Aerin, she drifted off into a deep slumber. 

_______________ 

"The town needs closure, Jarl Maven," Romlyn insisted through gritted teeth. 

Maven tsked at him. "Guards, show this peasant the door. He clearly doesn't understand that the town  _ needs _ what  _ I _ decide it needs." 

The guards walked over to Romlyn, but he turned and waved them away. "I'm going, I'm going!" he huffed. 

They slammed the Keep doors behind him. Romlyn crossed his arms, scowling. 

"I take it she didn't agree," Marise stated. 

"She did not." Romlyn threw his hands up. "It was a perfect opportunity for her to show that she has some type of a soul, but I guess I should have known better than to try!" 

"It's okay," Marise said. "We can have our own funeral. We don't need her permission." 

_______________

They gathered that night in the Hall of the Dead. Alessandra, the priestess of Arkay, offered meager refreshments to the guests. Romlyn declined. He couldn't bear to eat anything right now. Even though the guards were mostly on their side now, he still feared that Tabethys would be ripped away from him. He didn't know which guards he passed were a member of the Union and which weren't. It was risky leaving his apartment. Romlyn squeezed Tabethys's hand tighter, and Tabethys squeezed back. 

Alessandra moved to the front of the room, her tan robes swishing while she walked. A hush fell over the crowd as she raised her arms. 

"The god Arkay was once like us, bound to winding mortality," she began. "But willingly, he gave up his existence so that we might better understand the vagaries of life and death. It is through the ebb and flow of this cosmic tide that we find renewal and, in the end, peace." 

Alessandra took a breath and continued, "May the spirits of Aerin, Bolli, Laila, Edda, Valindor, Constance Michel, Hroar, Runa Fair-Shield, Samuel, and Francois Beaufort, and all those who have left this world and its suffering know the beloved serenity of Aetherius, and may we one day rejoin them in eternity." 

Romlyn broke down into tears, and Tabethys put his arms around him. Romlyn shook with his sobs, but he was not alone. He looked up and saw through his tears that everyone else was crying, too. They had all been like family, and now a gaping hole was torn in the fabric of their society, and the blinding void sucked them in. 

Alessandra stepped down from the podium and knelt at the shrine of Arkay, praying softly under her breath. Mjoll joined her, and Madesi and Grelka joined Mjoll. Romlyn stood, his hand still enclosed by Tabethys's, and drifted up to the altar. He laid his hands on it, fingertips brushing against those of the others, and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, he felt a sense of calm surge through him as the shrine's blessing washed over him. Though his pain was still sharp and palpable, he felt certain that Arkay cradled the souls of the dead, that he tenderly watched over them. 

Romlyn exhaled and stood. 

Alessandra pressed a bottle of ale into his hand and uncorked it. Romlyn leaned in to smell it to make sure it wasn't Black-Briar mead. It wasn't. He took a long swig and felt the effects radiating through his body. 

One by one, everyone stood from the shrine, comforted by the blessings of Arkay, and drank the ceremonial ale. Soon, the mood of the night shifted as the ale's effects took place. They circled around the hearthfire and told stories of the dead's lives. Every one of them had touched the living in some way. Romlyn closed his eyes, adrift in the buzz, soaking in his fortune. His fortune. Yes, he was not dead. He was surrounded by loved ones, and though the situation was grim, there was hope. 

"My friends," Mjoll said. Laughter subsided as the room quieted to give Mjoll space. "I must confess that I didn't want to come tonight. I have been feeling lost, abandoned. This, to me, initially felt like nothing but platitudes. I was angry. Angry that Maven had defeated us, angry that so many of our own were... I held that anger on my shoulders and in my heart. But now that we are here, all of us, I am reminded of why I started this fight in the first place. Aerin, Arkay bless his soul, always told me, 'Mjoll, I want us to live free and peacefully someday.' And I vowed to do that for him." 

Mjoll took a drink of her ale and looked at the faces of the crowd. Romlyn met her eyes, and they shared a smile. 

"The more time I spent in Riften, the more personal it became for me," she continued. "I got to know each and every one of you. So many of you had the same dream as Aerin. But your voices were crushed, oppressed by the silver-tongued Maven. And so my vow became not just to my beloved Aerin, but to all of you. And I feel…" Mjoll sputtered. "I feel the need to apologize to you." 

Cries of objection rose gently from the crowd. Romlyn felt his heart crack. 

"No, really, I do," Mjoll insisted. "I let you down. In that jail cell, I gave up. I gave up on this dream, on our mission, and for that, I am truly sorry. I want to commit to you, now, though. Because--" her voice caught in her throat; her eyes misted-- "because you've given me hope tonight. You have shown me that, although this city may be diseased, solidarity is the cure. And we have solidarity. I feel it in this place tonight, in the looks that each of you are giving me and each other." 

A warm, wet feeling like a summer rain spread through Romlyn, and Tabethys gripped him closer. Mjoll smiled at them. 

Romlyn raised his glass. "To hope!" 

Everyone raised their glasses, clinking them together. Tears slipped down Romlyn's cheeks for the second time that night, but this time, they were out of pride in his community, not grief. Like a bow finally tied around a parcel, this chapter of their lives ended, and finally, Romlyn felt like he was free to move onto the next phase of their plan: taking back Riften. 

  
  


_______________ 

They had devised a secret code to speak plainly in front of any guard's face: sign language. The gestures looked natural; no one who wasn't in on the secret would ever suspect a thing. 

Wiping the forehead meant the Union as a whole; touching the left side of the nose, meeting at night, and the right side, gathering supplies. One finger on the cheek, wood; two fingers, food and water; three, armor and weapons. Each Unionmate had a specific sign to their name. A wink, a cough, scratching the forehead one, two, or three times. Blinking meant a length of time: one long blink was a week, a short blink was a day. 

Grelka approached Balimund, leaning against the wall of his shop, watching the large Nord hammer a molten piece of iron into a sword. 

"Hey, Balimund," Grelka said. 

Balimund looked up at her. 

She wiped her forehead and scratched the right side of her nose. "Whew, it's hot over here. I don't know how you stand it." 

Balimund smiled a toothy grin. "I've gotten used to it." He rubbed his stubbled cheek with three fingers, then wiped at it with one. He blinked twice in quick succession. 

"I could never get used to this. It's like a sauna!" Grelka wiped her forehead again, then rubbed the left side of her nose. 

A guard walked past, but he didn't pay them any attention. 

"Yeah, yeah. If you're gonna complain, could you do it elsewhere? I'm trying to work here," he said, gruffly. 

Grelka walked away. She approached Romlyn and kicked the back of his foot. 

"Hey!" Romlyn shouted, spinning around to face her. "Watch it!" 

She wiped her forehead and rubbed the left side of her nose. "You watch it." 

Romlyn nodded imperceptibly and turned away. 

She went back to work, helping Marise rebuild the Bee and Barb. They pushed a log up into its divit, hammering it into place. They continued doing that for the rest of the day. There wasn't much talk between them, but the women knew each other well enough to feel each other's anticipation for the meeting later that night. They moved in tandem, not needing to communicate to get the job done. It was a perfect syncronized dance, and soon, the sun began to set over the horizon, signalling the end of the workday. 

_______________

Romlyn entered the Ratway, Tabethys at his side, and felt a pleasant energy emanating from its dark caverns. Somehow, he felt that it was welcoming them. In the weeks since Maven had usurped the throne, he had spent more time in the Ratway than he ever had before. It still made him apprehensive, but with Tabethys's sturdy hand holding his, he felt confident to stride into the place like he owned it. And so he strode. 

"Balimund," Romlyn greeted the blacksmith. "I'm glad you could make it." 

"Honored to be here. I would come more often, but work keeps me busy. You know how it is." 

Romlyn nodded. Everyone knew Balimund worked sixteen hours a day at the forge, leaving only to rest and eat. He had always been sympathetic to their cause, and Romlyn felt he could trust the blacksmith. 

"What have you got for us?" Romlyn asked Balimund. 

"I've got a pretty good supply of materials for the guillotine," Balimund said. "They're all in the lower Ratway under a tarp. Even if someone came snooping, they wouldn't know what they were looking at. You should have enough to get started building it. Let me know if you need more nails." 

"Thank you," Mjoll said, clasping Balimund's hands. "We couldn't do this without you." 

Balimund blushed. "Ah, well. I'm a blacksmith. It's what I do." 

"Don't underestimate to value of your craft. You have my thanks. We owe you one," Mjoll insisted. 

He nodded, then ducked out of the Ratway. 

"So," Mjoll said. "We have the materials. Now we just need to build it." 

That elicited a few groans from the members of the Union. 

"I know, I know." Mjoll raised her hands. "The last thing each of us wants to do after a twelve hour shift is come back to build more. But this is for our cause." 

They followed Mjoll down to the lower Ratway, and gasped at the pile of materials. Beautifully carved wood beams and pieces lay on the ground, and to the side, a smooth metal blade glinted in the torchlight. 

"How are we going to get it out of here?" Romlyn asked. 

"I think once we build it, if we wheel it on its side, we can get it out pretty easily," Madesi suggested. 

So they got to work. Svana Fair-Shield sang working songs. Her crystal clear voice reverberated off the stone walls, lifting everyone's spirits. Romlyn and Tabethys worked side-by-side. Grelka, Mjoll, and Teldryn helped maneuver the larger pieces. Marise and Madesi handled the find details, like attaching the blade and rigging the rope contraption. And Damon kept everyone hydrated. After a long night of working, Romlyn sat back and wiped sweat off his brow. 

He whistled, taking in the full marvel of the guillotine. "Impressive. Damned impressive." 

Tabethys stood next to him, a big grin shining through his exhaustion. 

Mjoll clapped, whooping and hollering. In the deep of the Ratway, they didn't have to worry about their voices carrying. Tabethys joined in with her cheers, and soon everyone was buzzing with excitement. Romlyn and Teldryn caught eyes, and even Teldryn seemed elated. 

"Look what we  _ built! _ " Mjoll exclaimed. "Soon, we will put it to good use." 

"Alright, I'm going to bed," Grelka stated, turning on one heel. She climbed the stairs, and everyone followed her. 

Romlyn and Tabethys crossed the canal to their apartment, and as soon as Romlyn shut the door, Tabethys turned him around and planted kiss on his lips. The only sound was the steady whisper of the fire in the hearth. 

"I love you, Romlyn Dreth," Tabethys stated. 

Romlyn grinned. "I love you, too, Tabethys." 

Tabethys growled playfully dragged Romlyn to the bed, kissing him, racing to undress him. 

"I don't know how you still have the energy for this," Romlyn mumbled in Tabethys's ear. He slipped off Tabethys's pants and nibbled his ear. 

"Because you look so sexy when you're building things, and I've been thinking about this all day," Tabethys responded, pressing a kiss to Romlyn's chest. 

Romlyn gave in to Tabethys's desire. They made love into the early morning hours, eventually collapsing, their energies spent, a tangle of arms and legs and sleepy breaths. 

_______________ 

  
  


Ulthis stood in the office, palms flat on the table. His long, brown hair flowed down his shoulders, and his mind turned. That Redguard kid had some pretty good ideas. And now Maven was ordering the Captain to be punched in the face by a newcomer. Maybe there was something to this Union idea. 

"Ulthis." Serena nodded to him. She was younger than him, but not new to the guard. 

"Serena," he greeted back. "Hey, I have a question for you." 

"Shoot," she said, pivoting back to face him. 

"What do you think of Maven?" Ulthis kept his tone even, his face blank. He wanted her complete honesty. 

She looked around to make sure the room was empty. "Honestly?" 

He nodded. 

She breathed in. "I don't like her. I think she's corrupt and selfish. She kills the Jarl and expects everyone to accept her as the new Jarl? It's not right." 

Serena stammered, "n-not that I would ever go against her, of course. I am sworn to her service as a guard. I can follow orders, sir." 

"That was never under question, Serena," Ulthis assured her. "We live in interesting times, though. The Jarl blatantly commits crimes in front of us, but we cannot arrest her. What example does that set for the people?" Ulfric leaned back, arms crossed. "It's almost no wonder this city is a crime haven." 

Serena raised her eyebrow. "Have you been talking to Mjoll?" 

"No, no," Ulthis said. "It's just a thought." 

"Because what she and her little group are doing is against the law," Serena stated. 

"Yes, it is," Ulthis agreed. He didn't elaborate. "You may go back to your duties, guard." 

Serena nodded and left the office. 

Ulthis hunched over the table, pouring over the map of the city, pretending to be working. Serena was so adamant that she should follow Maven's command because that was the hierarchy. Even though Maven broke laws, Serena didn't question her. Mjoll, however, was a criminal, despite her good intentions. 

But what was the difference between Mjoll and Maven Black-Briar? Yes, Black-Briar was the Jarl, but they were both human, both mortal. Was the Jarl not subject to the very same laws that ruled all of mankind, all of Tamriel? 

Ulthis scratched his head. A dull throbbing began at the base of his neck and radiated throughout the middle of his head. Oh, why couldn't this just be simple? What was he missing? 

"Hey, Ulthis," Talvir said, approaching the older Nord. "Whatcha working on?" 

Ulthis leaning back from the table. "Nothing." 

Talvir hummed in response. "Thinking about what Damon said?" 

Ulthis nodded. "Do you actually want to go through with it? Turning against the Jarl?" 

Talvir scooted a chair over and down by Ulthis. 

"I don't know," Talvir answered honestly. "The law is what holds Skyrim, all of mankind together. It's our greatest invention. The law is clear, and it shows all men and mer how to live. Authorities provide guidance for their people when times are not clear. And the guard exists to enforce that guidance." 

Talvir breathed in. "But… What I see before me in this town, I cannot ignore. Maven Black-Briar took over this city on no authority, using a hired gang of mercenaries. She killed Jarl Laila and usurped the throne. These are facts." Talvir looked at Ulthis. "Is it wise to support a Jarl who so flagrantly shuns the law?" 

Ulthis scrunched his brow in concentration. Was it wise? Or was that even the right question? 

"The way I see it," Ulthis said carefully, "this is not a question of wisdom or of politics, but rather of what is right and what is wrong. When corrupt people take authority, they write corrupt laws. When corrupt laws are enforced, even if the guard who enforces it does not agree with it, by enforcing it, he corrupts himself." 

Talvir frowned.

"The law is not morality," Ulthis continued. "The law is merely someone else's dictation. Hopefully, that law will have been written with morality in mind, but as we see before us, when selfish and greedy people write laws, they write them so that they profit. They enforce a double standard. Maven Black-Briar does not follow her own laws. She is a hypocrite. She is not fit to be Jarl. If we stand behind her, even if we do not agree with what she is doing, we risk out own humanity. We have a duty to tear down unjust laws. Therefore… " 

Ulthis breathed in; he couldn't believe he was about to say this. 

"We have a duty to help Mjoll and her crew usurp the Jarl." 

_______________

Ulthis, Talvir, and Lemka met in a narrow, forgotten backalley littered with trash. The stench of rotten skeever corpses wafted up, making them cringe.

"How many members are in your cell, Talvir?" Ulthis asked. 

"Thirteen," Talvir confirmed. 

"Lemka?" 

"Fifteen," she answered smugly. "You?" 

"Fourteen," Ulthis replied. 

Finally, Damon appeared. "Hey," he said, panting. 

"We have forty-two members of the guard unionized," Lemka updated him, not bothering with a greeting. 

"Good! That's good." Damon smiled. "There's still fifty members, right?" 

Ulthis nodded. 

"Good, then that's probably plenty for now. But keep trying! We need all the help we can get." 

"So what's the plan. We need details," Ulthis said. 

Ulthis listened intently as Damon relayed the plan. Damon talked with a puffed up chest and a youthful vigor that made Ulthis feel fondly of the lad. He reminded him of his own song, gone off to join the Stormcloaks. Lemka and Talvir asked questions, Damon answered them, and Ulthis listened, gathering all the information and filing it away. The plan was meticulous, detailed. It took a lot of people to pull off, and there were risks. But, most importantly, it could work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone! The story is complete. All that's left is proofreading and uploading. This has been an excellent journey, and I'm so glad each of you came along for the ride. You may have noticed I added a series title--that's because I've begun working on the sequel! Hold your horses, though, because this story still has a lot left. We are now firmly in the third act, and I can't wait to see your thoughts on what's coming up. Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes in an instant.

Romlyn awoke first, but he stayed still, breathing in the scent of Tabethys's hair. It was soft and smelled like woodsmoke, like home. Romlyn squeezed Tabethys and sighed, wanting to hang onto this moment, but knowing it would slip away soon, like all things did. For now, he was content. He was home, in his own bed, holding his lover in his arms, something he knew better than to take for granted. 

Today was the day. Romlyn felt anxiety grip his heart with ice cold tendrils, but he stared it down. Today was a day for bravery, iron will, and courage. Yes, he knew fear. But he would not let it control him. 

"You awake?" Tabethys mumbled sleepily. 

"Yes," Romlyn replied, kissing the back of Tabethys's head. 

"So today's it, then." 

"It is." 

Silence fell. 

"I never expected it to come to this," Romlyn confessed. 

"Neither did I. I just came here to do some business. I didn't expect to…" Tabethys's voice hitched, "to fall in love." 

Romlyn's heart fluttered. He knew Tabethys loved him. He knew he loved Tabethys. But every time he said it, Romlyn felt like it was the first time all over again. 

Tabethys turned to face Romlyn, violet eyes stark and misty; those eyes still took Romlyn's breath away just as they did they first time they met. 

"I love you," Tabethys stated, looking deeply at Romlyn. 

"I love you, too," Romlyn responded. 

Tabethys breathed out and buried his face in Romlyn's neck. Romlyn tipped Tabethys's chin up and kissed him softly on the lips. The kiss lingered even as they pulled back the covers and got out of bed.

They put on their clothes, the same black tunic, pants, and scarves that all the members of the Union would be wearing today. A black uniform meant no one could be singled out for retaliation. 

Romlyn smiled under his black scarf. It was time. He looked to Tabethys, whose matching black outfit accentuated his thick, muscled frame. Romlyn's heart skipped a beat. Tabethys looked  _ really _ good in black. 

"You pull that off really well," Romlyn purred. 

"Hey now," Tabethys giggled. "We don't have time for that." 

"For what?" Romlyn pouted. "Can't I give my lover a compliment?" 

The tips of Tabethys's ears flushed, and he looked away. 

"No, you're right. I'll save it for after." Tabethys gave Romlyn's hand a squeeze, then followed him out of the apartment. 

_______________

The Union was gathered outside between Romlyn's house and the Ratway, shrouded in black clothes and scarves. Even Teldryn had traded his usual chitin for black. Mjoll greeted Tabethys by pounding her chest. 

"Everyone ready?" she asked. 

Various nods and sounds of excitement spread throughout the crowd. 

"Remember: look out for each other," Mjoll said. "If your comrade falls, help them. We are only as strong as our weakest link, so help each other be strong." 

With that, she raised her warhammer and shouted to the sky. The stars twinkled back approvingly. Mjoll climbed up the stairs and ran across the plaza, the mass of black following just behind her. 

There were ten guards posted at the stairs of the Keep; the two in the middle stepped forward and pointed their weapons at the encroaching group. 

"Back away," Mjoll ordered, her voice muffled by her scarf. "We're going in there one way or another." 

"I can't let you in," the guard insisted, shifting his weight under the intense gaze of The Lioness. 

"The time for negotiating has long passed. One final warning: you move, or you die." 

Mjoll crossed her warhammer over her chest, preparing to swing. The guard moved to strike. She blocked and swung her hammer. It connected with his chest, and he flew into the air, landing with a sickening thud in the plaza. The other guard stood down, joining the rest in standing aside for the Union. 

Tabethys stepped up to the front of the group and pulled down his scarf. The world spun as he inhaled, preparing his Thu'um. 

" _ Fus… RO DAH!"  _

The doors burst apart. Wood splintered, iron buckled, and stone cracked. They stormed forward, overturning the carved tables, flinging fine cutlery onto the floor. The Keep rumbled under their stampede; the walls shook with their anger. 

"Spread out!" someone commanded. "Find her!" 

Tabethys splintered off from the group, several others following him. They went behind the throne, up the steps. A locked door blocked their path. Tabethys's Thu'um was still spent, so he procured a lockpick and quickly picked the lock. Maven's two adult children stood against the wall, huddled together. 

"Where is she?!" Tabethys demanded. 

The man pointed behind them. Tabethys circled the room, overturning furniture. He flung closet doors open, but no one was in there. The group stormed out of the room, back down the stairs, into a different wing. 

There, perched at a fine chair, fingers steepled below her chin, was Maven Black-Briar. 

"You," Tabethys growled. He raised his arms, pulled fire into his hands, blood rushing through his forearms. Every particle in him was electric, tingling and pulsing with power. 

Maven rose from her chair and looked down at him. "Do you think you can take me?" She laughed. Two mercenaries in steel emerged from the shadows behind her, one at her left, the other at her right. "You are no match for me." 

Tabethys grinned. With a flick of his wrist, he lobbed two flaming bolts at the mercs flanking her, barely batting an eye. They thunked to the ground, steel armor useless against molten fire. Maven's face blanched. Was that fear? Like the flicker of a snake's tongue, victory rose in Tabethys's throat.

"You…" she breathed, her eyes widening with recognition. "You're the Dragonborn." 

The floor thundered as the rest of the Union and the former guards approached. 

Mjoll rushed forward until her steel sword was pointed at Maven’s throat. "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people! What say you in your defense?" 

"I have committed no crime." Maven's voice was sharp like a sword. "Everything I did was for the good of Skyrim!" 

Mjoll snarled. "You are charged with six counts of murder, two counts of arson, treason, and corruption. You have plotted the ruin of many, shaming your name and forfeiting your life. You built this city with bloodshed and dominated this town through injustice! We will not stand for it. How do you plea?" 

Maven narrowed her eyes at Mjoll. "You have no proof." 

"Oh, but we do," Romlyn countered. "We have the location of your Skooma operation headquarters and a witness." 

"You're lying!" Maven growled. "None of my business partners would dare turn on  _ me. _ " 

"Look around you, Maven," Tabethys said, gesturing to the people. Many were clad in black, but some still wore their old guard uniforms. "The guards you paid off have turned against you. Your employees hate you. Your fortune is spent. Your Meadery festers with the stench of Skooma. The walls of your Keep crumble, and the workers have risen up against you. You have nothing because everything you made, you made with rotten materials: extortion, greed, corruption, murder.  _ You _ are nothing." 

Maven's mouth opened and closed as she sputtered for something, anything, to say, but she was silent. Her head fell in defeat as Mjoll seized her. The crowd cried in victory; their voices grew louder as they exited the Keep. They jeered and hollered as Mjoll threw Maven to her knees. 

Mjoll shoved Maven's head into the guillotine, locking her in place. 

Tabethys was swept up in the high spirits. His heart pounded in his ears. Romlyn beside him, their fingers interlaced, he chanted along with the crowd. 

Mjoll moved to the side of the guillotine, fist raised in the air. 

"For Aerin! For Keerava! For Bolli! For  _ all  _ of Riften!" 

Mjoll heaved a shuddered breath as she raised her sword over her head. The crowd quieted; anticipation thick on their tongues. The steel of Mjoll’s sword cleaved into the wood of the guillotine, severing the rope. The heavy blade of the guillotine came crashing down with a slick crack and a thud. Maven's head toppled into the basket; blood painted the blade red. Mjoll grabbed a fistful of Maven's hair and held her head aloft. She roared, flecks of blood staining her armor. 

The crowd cheered back, vicious and alive. 

They had won. 

"Maven the Greedy has fallen!" someone cheered above the raucous. "Long live Mjoll the Lioness!"

Everyone cheered louder at that. Like one organism, the crowd gathered around Mjoll, fists raised. They chanted her name. Mjoll stood by the guillotine, sword over her head, long hair flying in the wind, crying out in victory. Tabethys felt like he might drift away in the euphoria of the crowd. 

He looked out over the crowd of people, and as he studied their faces, he slipped out of the moment. Their eyes were bright and shiny. Some people were crying as they cheered. Everyone's faces were contorted in emotion. Tabethys's eyes swept the crowd until he met Teldryn's gaze. Teldryn's expression was stoic, but even he couldn't hide the spark in his eyes. Tabethys knew him well enough to know that Teldryn was also feeling the elation of the crowd. 

Teldryn smiled at Tabethys and raised a fist. Tabethys raised his fist back and was sucked back into the moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This was it: the climax of the story. I agonized over this chapter long and hard, but eventually, I came to the conclusion that it would have to be a short chapter. Stay tuned for the resolution! As always, thanks for reading.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moot is held to decide who should lead Riften, and Romlyn plans a surprise for Tabethys.

"We demand a moot!" the Snow-Shod patriarch shouted. 

"We are already planning to old a moot, Vulwulf," Maramal assured him. "I've come to invite you to it." 

"Well, alright then," the old Nord huffed. "But don't let those Dark Elves talk you into leaving the Nords out. I see you fraternizing with the enemy." 

"Tabethys is the  _ Dragonborn _ , Vulwulf. He's hardly the enemy," Nura said, placing a soft hand on her husband's arm. She turned to Maramal. "Thank you for inviting us to the moot, dear. We'll certainly be there." 

Maramal smiled politely. "I look forward to it." 

"Talos guide you," Nura said as Maramal walked away from their door. 

Maramal paused and took a breath. He was worried the moot would create tension in the fragile state of the community. The Snow-Shods were a well-respected family in Riften, and they would certainly vie for the Jarl's throne. Maramal scratched his head. Who else would want to lead the town? Harrald Law-Giver, Jarl Laila's oldest child, would have been the next one in line. Perhaps it was only natural for him to take the throne. But he was self-centered and not very bright. The same problems that caused their initial strife could arise if he was Jarl. 

Maramal sighed and pushed into the Mistveil Keep. Dinya and Briehl were already setting the main hall up for moot that evening, laying out the food and sweeping the floors. Maramal joined them, making pleasant conversation with Dinya while he worked, all the while, a gnawing feeling that he was missing something ate at the back of his mind. 

_______________ 

The light of hearth spilled through the dining hall of the Mistveil Keep. Glasses and silverware clinked as guests ate and drank. 

"Maramal did a great job organizing this," Romlyn whispered to Tabethys. 

Tabethys nodded in agreement. 

"Honored guests," Maramal said, standing up and clinking his knife to his cup. He sat at the front of the table, with Dinya and the other acolyte on either side of him. "Thank you for coming. We have come this evening to join in celebration of Riften's future, and in celebration and camaraderie, we also hold a moot to decide who the Jarl will be." 

Vulwulf chuckled and bowed his head. "It's okay, Priest, we all know who we're here to elect." 

"That's right," Harrald Law-Giver agreed, standing up. "I am more than ready to take my rightful place on the throne, as is my birthright." 

Romlyn snickered. 

"What, elf? You got something to say?" Harrald snarled, pointing at Romlyn. 

"Oh, yeah, as a matter of fact I do." Romlyn stood up and put his hands on his hips. "I have to say, you're not much of a man, and you're weak. Riften needs a strong leader, not some boy who cares more about his own reflection than the people around him." 

"I'll have--" Harrald started. 

"No, no," Vulwulf interjected. "The elf is right! We need a  _ strong leader  _ in charge, a true Nord! And I graciously accept. You're making the right choice." 

"What?" Marise cried. 

"No way!" Harrald argued. 

"I don't think so!" Romlyn shouted. 

Chaos ripped through the dining hall as everyone started clamoring over one another to speak. Tabethys leaned back, arms crossed, and watched the argument. Romlyn stood on his chair to stand eye-to-eye with Vulwulf; Marise shouted at Harrald. The Law-Giver lad's face grew red with rage, and old Vulwulf spat as he talked, his words like daggers thrown haphazardly at a target too far away. Maramal stood and raised his arms in a weak attempt to calm the moot. Mjoll watched coolly, and she and Tabethys locked eyes. Tabethys felt like he was back in jail, just him and Mjoll alone together. Though they had not communicated in jail, he felt a deeper connection with her. He thought he knew what was on her mind. 

Finally, Tabethys pushed up from the table. 

"QUIET!" he bellowed, the edges of his words laced with Thu'um. His voice shook the walls, and the attentendees silenced, looking at him with wide eyes. Even Vulwulf looked a little scared. 

"Why do either one of you think you should be Jarl?" Tabethys pointedly asked Vulwulf and Harrald. "Neither of you lifted a finger to help save Riften from Maven. You sat back in your mansions and watched everyone else do the heavy lifting. You don't care about this town or its people." 

Harrald opened his mouth to speak, but Tabethys silenced him with a glare. 

"Mjoll should be the Jarl," Tabethys asserted. He looked at her, still sitting down in her seat, stoic expression on her face. "She's brave, she's shown strong leadership capabilities, and more importantly, she actually gives a damn about this town." 

Vulwulf's tense expression relaxed. "Well I don't want no damn Imperial in charge." 

"I'm a Nord, Vulwulf," Mjoll sighed. 

"I know that," the old Nord grumbled. "But what's your stance on the war? Whose side are you on?" 

"To be honest, I haven't given it much thought. I've been more focused on Riften and my people than Ulfric Stormcloak and the Imperials." Mjoll furrowed her brow. "My thoughts are these: I think the Stormcloaks are right to be upset about the banning of Talos. But I do not trust Ulfric Stormcloak himself. I think he allows his people to suffer for the glory of his own name, and I do not like how the Stormcloak soldiers treat the Dunmer and the Argonians." 

Vulwulf scoffed. 

"If the war comes knocking on our door, I will make the decision that is best for Riften, whatever that may be." Mjoll stood and looked Vulwulf in the eyes. "You can trust that, Vulwulf." 

Vulwulf fell silent, and Tabethys exhaled. 

"Should we take a vote, then?" Maramal asked. 

_______________ 

Spring bouquets decorated Riften square, and tapestries fluttered in the breeze. It was a perfect day: the sun was shining, it was neither too cold nor too hot, and everyone was in high spirits. 

Tabethys and Romlyn stood at the front of the crowd, watching with beaming faces as their friend Mjoll strode out of the Keep. She wore a fine dress and shining boots, and her flaxen hair was pinned up on both sides, the back tumbling down her shoulders. Her ruby necklace glinted in the sun. She walked forward and held her hands out in greeting. 

"People of Riften, thank you for coming," she spoke, her voice clear and sharp. "Today, I become your Jarl, an honor that I do not take lightly. You chose me to be your Jarl because of the example I set in my daily life and values. These are values that will not diminish while I am Jarl. I promise to take care of you, to hear your woes and find solutions that work for everyone. This job is not going to be an easy one, and I will need help from all of you. I find that cooperation and unity often make a situation far more agreeable for all." 

Mjoll took a shining circlet off the pillow Maramal held up to her. 

"As I don this circlet, let it be a symbol of my promise to you, as a spouse wears a ring in promise to their companion: I will always put the interests of Riften above my own, and I will lead with dignity, honor, and love." 

Mjoll set the circlet on her head and looked out at the crowd, smiling warmly. Her eyes found Tabethys's, and he felt her pride emanating off of her. 

"Thank you, Riften," she said. "It is an honor to be your Jarl." 

_______________

Romlyn and Tabethys sat together at Romlyn's table, sipping their morning tea. Romlyn felt a peace in his soul that made him feel afraid. After all this fighting and scraping for something better, now it was sitting right in front of him, sleepily holding a warm mug of homemade tea to his perfect lips, and Romlyn didn't know what to do. 

Or did he? 

An idea burst into his head that made his heart flutter. 

"Do you have any plans today, dear?" Romlyn asked, struggling to keep his voice measured. 

"Um, no, not really. I might hang out with Teldryn before he goes back to Solstheim. Why?" 

Romlyn shrugged. "No reason. I just have some errands to run, so I won't be around much today." 

"Okay. Have a good day, love." Tabethys leaned over and gave Romlyn a peck on the cheek. 

Romlyn blushed and pushed up from the table, slipped on his shoes, and left the apartment. He breathed in the crisp spring air. Under Jarl Mjoll's command, the canals had been opened again, and the once stinking water flowed out to the lake again as boats lazily floated through town. 

A gondola driver waved to Romlyn, and Romlyn waved back. They shared a smile, then Romlyn bounded up the steps. His breath caught in his throat as he looked around. Riften was finally looking back to its former self. 

The Orphanage was rebuilt with stone instead of wood, ensuring that a fire could never burn it down again, and a new tavern, Keerava's Place, stood where The Bee and Barb once stood. The Bunkhouse was still being rebuilt; Romlyn chuckled as he watched Haelga gruffly order some workers around.

Romlyn crossed the market place and admired the new flowerbeds that lined the stone wall marking off the plaza. Blue, red, and purple mountain flowers lined one side; dragon's tongue, tundra cotton, and lavender the other. Benches were spaced evenly between the flowerbeds; a perfect spot to take a moment. 

Riften had been through a lot this year.  _ Romlyn _ had been through a lot this year. After all the bloodshed and heartache, it would take time to heal. Romlyn looked around the plaza. Marise was talking cheerfully to some travellers, Shadr by her side, showing them samples. Brand-Shei, Grelka, and Madesi had new stalls and wares. Everyone seemed to be getting back into the rhythm of things. 

Besides opening the canal, one of Mjoll's firsts acts as Jarl was to arrest and seize the assets of the remaining Black-Briars. She had left them enough to get out of Riften after they served their time in jail, but the rest was distributed equally to each citizen of Riften. It was enough for most people to make up for what they had lost in the massacre, including the shopkeepers to replenish their stock. 

Romlyn approached Madesi's stall. 

"Hello, Romlyn," Madesi greeted. "May I interest you in some fine Argonian craftsmanship? Perhaps… something for a lover?" 

Romlyn smiled at Madesi. "I think we both know why I'm here." 

"Certainly," Madesi agreed. "I recommend something with an amethyst. It will bring out those unique eyes of his." Madesi held up a silver necklace inlaid with a glittering purple gem. It certainly was like staring into Tabethys's eyes. 

"I'm actually looking for a ring," Romlyn said. 

"Oh really?" Madesi fluttered excitedly. He put the necklace down and pulled out a small tray of shining rings. "I have several fine rings to choose from. This one is my most precious." Madesi picked up a golden band; it, too, was inlaid with amethyst. It glinted in the sunlight, not a single imperfection. 

"I'm not sure…" Romlyn waffled. He was sure. It was the perfect ring, and he wouldn't be leaving without it. 

"I can give you a special price. Old time's sake," Madesi prodded, moving the ring closer to Romlyn. "Imagine how radiant your man will feel with this on his finger." 

Romlyn smiled at Madesi. "You got yourself a deal, friend." 

They settled on a price, and Romlyn pocketed the precious ring. 

The sun was higher now; it was almost noon, and Romlyn's nerves were getting to him. Why was he so nervous? He knew Tabethys liked him. This was the natural progression of things. He pushed his nerves away and squared his shoulders. 

He strode across the market to the Temple of Mara, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. 

"Romlyn!" Maramal greeted cheerfully. He took Romlyn's hands and clasped them warmly. "What can I do for you, my son?" 

"I'd like to purchase an amulet of Mara," Romlyn said. He couldn't stop the blush from creeping up onto his face. 

"You wish to be married? It's good to see love blossoming, even during these difficult times!" Maramal exclaimed. He went behind the desk at the front of the temple and rummaged around, eventually pulling out a small, flat box. 

The priest approached Romlyn and carefully opened the box. Inside, an intricate amulet of Mara seemed to glow as if by magic. Raised spirals danced around the field of gold, emanating from a single sky blue pearl at the center. On either side of the centerpiece were three smaller golden circles, each with their own unique spiral design. It hung on a sturdy gold chain. Romlyn gasped when he saw it. His hand was drawn to the blue pearl in the center like a moth to a lantern. When he caressed it, he felt the magic of the enchantment flow through him, rejuvenating him. 

"It's perfect," Romlyn breathed. 

Maramal beamed and accepted Romlyn's payment, helping him put the amulet on. With the amulet of Mara around his neck, Romlyn felt almost as invincible as he did when he was around Tabethys. He gave the wedding rings he purchased from Madesi to Maramal so they could be used in the ceremony and left the temple; he knew he walked out, but if someone had tried to arrest him for levitating, he wouldn't have known to object. 

Tabethys was in the market talking to Marise, his back to Romlyn. Marise and Romlyn connected eyes as he approached. She smiled at him and then her eyes dropped down to the shiney new necklace he wore, and her eyes lit up. Her hands flew up to her mouth, covering her wide smile. Tabethys stopped talking and looked around confusedly. His eyes settled on Romlyn, and the confusion left his face. 

"Romlyn!" Tabethys chirped. "It's good to see you, dear." 

Romlyn walked closer, his feet barely registering the ground beneath him and took Tabethys's hands in his. 

"Romlyn…" Tabethys looked down. He noticed the amulet, and his face turned rose as blush creeped up onto his cheeks and ears. "Is… is that an amulet of Mara?" 

"It is," Romlyn croaked. 

"So, you're looking for marriage, then?" Tabethys asked, tongue in cheek. 

Romlyn smiled, meeting Tabethys's eyes. They stood close together, unaware that the entire market circle had stopped to listen. 

"Interested in me, are you?" Romlyn asked, grinning widely. 

"I won't lie, I am." Tabethys blushed deeper now and laced his fingers Romlyn's. "And you?" 

Romlyn's heart skipped a beat. Was this really happening? "I won't lie, I am." 

"Then it's settled!" Tabethys exclaimed. He squeezed Romlyn's hands. "You and me." 

"You and me," Romlyn echoed, worshipping the words as they slipped off his tongue. He leaned in and kissed Tabethys, soft and gentle, caressing the side of his face, letting his hand linger in Tabethys's beard. 

When they parted, Tabethys took off the amulet of Mara and put it in his pocket. The small crowd of townspeople who had gathered cheered as Tabethys raised Romlyn's hand in the air. 

"Congratulations!" Marise exclaimed, patting Romlyn's shoulder. "May Mara continue to bless you both." 

"Thank you," Romlyn beamed. 

Tabethys bounced excitedly. "We're getting married!" 

Romlyn smiled at him. His bubbliness was infectious, and Romlyn was glad that he could bring that smile to Tabethys's face. It had been far too long since he had been this way. In fact, Romlyn didn't know that he'd  _ ever  _ seen Tabethys so happy. 

"I have to go set up the ceremony with Maramal, dear," Romlyn said. 

"Okay! I'll be here." 

Romlyn kissed Tabethys again and looked over his shoulder as he walked back to the Temple. 

"Back so soon?" Maramal asked as Romlyn pushed open the doors. 

Romlyn grinned. "I need to request a wedding ceremony." 

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Maramal exclaimed. "Dinya, Briehl, we need to plan a wedding ceremony!" 

Dinya turned from the statue of Mara she had been praying at and came to Romlyn, a wide smile across her face. The acolyte emerged from the back room. 

"What sorts of cuisine would you like?" Dinya asked. 

"What about garments? Do you need any?" Briehl asked. 

They bombarded him with questions. Floral arrangements, guests to invite, food selection, and of course, words to prepare. Romlyn's head spun. This was all happening so fast. 

"I need some air," Romlyn mumbled, pulling away from the eager priests. He stepped out onto the porch and leaned against the wall. It was dark already, and Romlyn didn't know how much more party planning he had in him. 

"Romlyn!" Mjoll exclaimed happily. "Good to see you." 

"Hey, Mjoll. How are you liking being the Jarl?" Romlyn asked. 

"Oh, it's good most days. Hard work. I heard you and Tabethys are finally getting married! Congratulations." 

"Thank you." Romlyn flushed. "Planning this wedding is a lot harder than I thought. I can handle wrangling a union just fine, but this is something else!" 

Mjoll laughed and climbed the steps to the temple and joined him in leaning against the wall. "Isn't crazy how things change?" she asked, her voice sounding faraway as she gazed at the night sky. 

"Yeah," Romlyn agreed quietly. The stars twinkled in the inky black night. For the past year, the night had been his protection. Under the cover of darkness, his friends had plotted to take their futures back. Romlyn silently thanked the night and then looked back to Mjoll. "Who knew I would ever get married or that you would be the Jarl?" 

Mjoll hummed in response, and Romlyn noticed she was gently stroking the ruby that hung around her neck. "Riften needed someone to step up. We lost a lot along the way." 

Mjoll sighed and let go of the necklace, turning towards Romlyn. "I am happy for you, Romlyn. Truly. You and Tabethys deserve this." 

"Thank you, Mjoll." Romlyn sensed something bigger than this conversation was happening underneath, but he couldn't pinpoint what. 

"What will you do next?" she asked, her mysterious undertone washing away. 

"I don't know." Romlyn knit his brow. "For the first time in a long time, I think peace is on the horizon. I know there will be something else to come, but for now… I just want to enjoy our hard won victory." 

Mjoll chuckled. "That is wise, my friend. Savor every moment. You never know what tomorrow brings." She leaned up from the wall with a grunt. "Well, I have business to attend to. I'm sure you do, as well. Goodnight, Romlyn. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Goodnight, Mjoll," Romlyn said. He waved as she turned and walked back to the Keep. Then he took a deep breath and heaved open the doors of the Temple, ready to get back to wedding planning. 

_______________

"Wake up, dear!" Tabethys whispered excitedly. He kissed Romlyn's nose. "Today's the day!" 

Romlyn slowly opened his eyes. Tabethys was straddling him, his long black hair, normally in a ponytail, cascading down his shoulders. He was shirtless. Romlyn wrapped his arms around Tabethys and dragged him back down. 

"Noooo!" Tabethys groaned, laughter bubbling up out of him. 

"Pleeease? Just five more minutes?" Romlyn whined. 

Tabethys pushed Romlyn's arm off of him and laughed. "No! Once we get married, you can have all the minutes you want." 

Tabethys got out of bed, and Romlyn shivered from the suddenly missing body heat. Tabethys ripped the furs off the bed. "Up and at 'em!" 

"Argh!" Romlyn complained. He smiled and shook his head. "I can't believe you're so excited to marry me." 

"Of course I am!" Tabethys chirped. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Well, I guess I just picture you as out of my league. I mean… you're the Dragonborn." Romlyn sometimes forgot that Tabethys held so much power inside his throat, especially when Tabethys looked at Romlyn the way he was now. But there were times when Tabethys got loud and the Thu'um dripped off his voice, making the world around him shudder. Romlyn wondered how hard Tabethys had to work to control it. 

"I told you before, but that isn't a big deal to me." Tabethys took Romlyn's hands in his. " _ You're _ the one who's out of my league, if you ask me. You led a whole rebellion!" 

"I hardly led it alone. I had help from everyone in town. And besides, I would argue that Mjoll led it," Romlyn protested. 

Tabethys stuck his tongue out. "Just take a compliment! And don't worry about whether I want to marry you or not. I assure you I do. I'm in love with you, Romlyn." 

The world brightened as Tabethys smiled. Romlyn's heart fluttered. "I'm in love with you, too, Tabethys." 

They sealed their words with a kiss, morning breath mingling. 

"Whew!" Romlyn exclaimed. "You need a mint sprig." 

_______________ 

When Romlyn and Tabethys finally emerged from their home and climbed the steps to Upper Riften, they stopped in their tracks. 

Mjoll, dressed in her finest robes, extended her arms out to greet the couple. 

"There were too many people who wanted to celebrate your marriage, so we decided to have it outside. I hope that's okay," she said. 

Tabethys's eyes welled up. "Of course it is," he croaked. 

He took in the view: flowers seemed to bloom just for them, and everyone smiled and patted him on the arm as he walked through the aisle with Romlyn on his arm and a handmade flower crown on his head. 

After Romlyn had proposed and gone to set up the ceremony, he and Marise had scrambled to build his wedding outfit. He was quite proud of it, too. He had made the flower crown out of dragon's tongue and pink mountain flowers, and Marise had sewn him a new outfit: a stark white tunic with a yellow sash and white breeches to match. He had never worn anything so beautiful. 

The warm spring breeze encircled him, and he inhaled deeply, drinking in the moment. He looked at Romlyn, whose white hair had flowers braided into it, and whose gaze was so steadily set on the goal ahead of them, and felt all his nerves wash away. This was his man. 

They finally approached the altar and stood facing each other with Maramal in the center, the statue of Mara brought out from the Temple behind him. Nothing existed but Romlyn's sturdy hands in his, and his sparkling red eyes, shining in the sunlight. 

"Now the blushing grooms join us. Let's begin the ceremony," Maramal said, his voice booming so the audience could hear. Tabethys glanced out for the first time. Did the entire town of Riften come? He hoped he would be able to remember the vows he had written. 

"It was Mara who first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children," Maramal began, his arms raised over Romlyn and Tabethys. "It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. Do you have vows prepared for each other?" 

Romlyn smiled and nodded. "Tabethys," he began, voice cracking. "Since the day I met you, I have known our fates were intertwined. I felt it in the way you looked at me. When that dragon attacked Riften so long ago--it was only a year ago, but it feels like a lifetime ago--and you bravely slayed it, I knew you were the one for me." 

A tear slipped out of Tabethys's eye. 

"We have been through so much together, you and me," Romlyn continued. "And I've never felt this strongly about anyone. Tabethys, I promise to love you, to be loyal to you, to always listen, and to encourage you when you need it. You are my hero, my heart, my soul." 

Tabethys forced his tears down. He had to get through his vows still. 

"Tabethys?" Maramal prompted gently. 

"Romlyn," Tabethys started. "I never dreamed that I would fall in love when I first came to Riften. But you showed me a new perspective on life. You showed me how to love, how to be vulnerable. You are brave, courageous, strong, and trustworthy. You make me a better man. I am so glad I sat next to you that night last year, and I can't wait to sit next you every night for the rest of our lives." 

Tabethys squeezed Romlyn's hands. "I promise to always be there for you when you need me, no matter how low you get, now matter how far our travels take us. You are my love, my soulmate." 

Dark rose blush swept Romlyn's face, and Tabethys's heart fluttered. 

"Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?" Maramal asked, facing Romlyn. Maramal handed them both the wedding rings, gold bands with amethyst inlay. They were warm with enchantment.

Romlyn nodded vigorously and slipped the wedding ring onto Tabethys's finger. "Now and forever." 

Maramal turned to Tabethys. "And do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?" 

"I do," Tabethys said, beaming at Romlyn as he pushed the ring onto his finger. "Now and forever."

"Then, with Lady Mara's blessing, I pronounce you husband and husband!" Maramal cheered. "You may kiss." 

Romlyn stepped foreward and cupped Tabethys's face with one hand, pulling him close by the small of his back with the other. Under the beaming sun, they shared a passionate embrace. As Romlyn's lips set gently on Tabethys's, Tabethys felt his knees tremble, and Romlyn's grasp hardened to brace him. The softness of Romlyn's lips lingered even after they pulled apart. 

The audience cheered for them, and then Tabethys grinned mischievously at Romlyn. In one swift movement, he bent down and picked Romlyn up, bridal style, then carried him off the altar to Keerava's Place. 

"Follow us for the after party!" he shouted as he ran through the audience with his husband laughing wildly in his arms. The crowd cheered and happily followed the newlyweds to the tavern. 

The drinks flowed freely, and the food was exquisite. There was plenty of seared slaughterfish and sweetrolls for everyone. Tabethys and Romlyn never left each other's side. Bards played lively music, both Dunmer and Nord in origin, and the part was lively. The newlyweds shared their first dance, and the audience looked on fondly. Not a single one of them could have seen this happening just a few weeks ago. After the first dance, everyone joined in, sweating and drinking, moving their bodies as one. Tabethys and Romlyn danced until their feet hurt. Tabethys had never smiled so much in his life; his cheeks were beginning to throb. It was the most pleasant feeling he'd ever had. 

"This is the best night of my life," Romlyn sighed, leaning into Tabethys. 

Tabethys breathed in the scent of smoked meat and sweat. "Mine, too." 

He wrapped his arms around Romlyn's waist and swayed to the music. Romlyn sighed and danced along with him, twirling him with a laugh. Tabethys stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Romlyn. 

"You two look like you're having fun!" Tythis cheered above the music. He raised his glass of Talen-Jei's homebrewed mead and walked over to them. 

"Tythis, thank you for coming," Romlyn greeted. 

"I wanted to say congratulations. You both deserve it. As far as I'm concerned, you're heroes!" Tythis raised his bottle to them and walked back to the dancing throng, swaying with every step. 

Romlyn turned back to Tabethys, and they danced lightly to the music with their bodies pressed together. Tabethys leaned into the soft, floating feeling that rose up in his chest. This felt so good it almost hurt. He felt a smile spread through his face and squeezed his eyes shut. 

Several more guests came by in a slow trickle, giving the newlyweds congratulations and pleasantries. Tabethys caught Teldryn's eye. The Dunmer had traded his usual chitin apparel for Raven Rock style red garb. Teldryn nodded to Tabethys, and Tabethys nodded back. Teldryn approached from his spot near the back of the tavern, clearly intent on giving his own pleasantries. 

"Hey, Tabs," Romlyn said in his ear. "I'm gonna step out for some air. Please, stay and enjoy yourself." 

"I'll be here, my dear," Tabethys replied. He kissed Romlyn and watched as he weaved his way through the tavern, before turning his attention back to the lively party. 

_______________

Romlyn slipped out of the tavern and leaned against the wall. He sighed contentedly, still slightly buzzed from the drinks at the wedding party. It was dusk now, Azura's hour. He wasn't normally a religious mer, but this time felt different. The setting sun was already just past the horizon, but it was still high enough to bathe the world in its purple-gray light. Long shadows decorated the landscape in pinstripes, and a gentle breeze ruffled Romlyn's hair. 

Riften stood proudly over Lake Honrich. Its wooden and stone buildings were humble; they didn't gleam like Whiterun's, and they weren't ancient like Windhelm's. They didn't have Dwemer motifs like Markarth's, nor were they extravagant like Solitude's. Riften was humble, but it was proud nonetheless, for it sheltered a people who truly cared about one another. This was not the first time Riften's citizens had risen up to overthrow a corrupt Jarl, and if Romlyn knew Riften, it wouldn't be the last. But as Romlyn looked over the town, at the last of the people chatting in the market, he felt something rise up in his chest like a bear awaking after its long slumber, something big and mighty. 

He was proud of his city, of his people. He was proud to be from Riften. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! What a journey this has been. Thanks to everyone from the discord server who helped me proofread, brainstorm, and keep chugging along. I couldn't have done it without y'all. This was a monumental story for me. I've never written anything this long, nor have I ever even finished a story before. I'm so glad you could all join me for the ride. I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write.


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